


Goodbye, Physics

by wickedhoney7



Series: Laundry Room Escapades (A Klaine 'Verse) [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Adorable Fluffiness, Angst, Drama, F/F, F/M, M/M, Romance, Slightly Crack-ish, What did I do???
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 09:39:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 62,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1683695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedhoney7/pseuds/wickedhoney7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when two hearts meet in the cold winter of Montana?<br/>Only time will tell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [This has been posted at Scarvesandcoffee.net, but I figured I might as well put it here, as well. Especially since I'm a little writer's blocked after the latest update. I hope you like it, and I hope I find my muse again before you get to the end. Either way, cheers.]

The music wouldn't stop.

Blaine groaned in his sleep and rolled over to turn off his alarm-clock/radio, but the music continued on. When he opened bleary brown eyes to check the time, a curse slipped from his slightly-chapped lips. It was three am. And he had a test in less than six hours. Who the hell was playing the music so loud on a Tuesday morning?

Grumbling about the unfairness of it all, while random laws and theories flittered across his sleep-strewn brain, he pushed himself onto his elbows and swung his legs off the edge of the bed. Whoever was doing this was going to pay, and pay hell. He glanced down as he stumbled from the bed, relieved that he was actually wearing pants and so didn't have to stop to look for any, in which event he would, heaven forbid, have to turn on the lights, and he wasn't sure he could handle that at the moment. With a yawn, he pushed long, strong fingers through his dark, unruly curls and picked up his keys from the desk by the door with his other hand.

"Gypsy," he muttered, recognizing the words drifting to him from below, probably the laundry room, he thought. He'd thought he was so smart at the beginning of the semester when he'd snagged that room. As light a sleeper as he was, he would often hear the doors open in the early morning, and if he had the time, or just really needed clean clothes, he could get the drop on any others that might take over the scant amount of machines available to the dorm population. Of course he hadn't counted on those who did midnight-or-later laundry runs, nor, he thought with a weary chuckle had he considered that some people liked to sing while they did their runs.

_Whistle while you work_ , he thought, and then winced. His friends had teased him relentlessly for knowing as many Disney songs as he did, and he'd been trying to expand his repertoire. Which is how he'd ended up watching a bunch of musicals from the sixties and seventies that his Mom had suggested when he mentioned his dilemma. To his dismay, the teasing had not lessened, but only changed direction after his newest hobby became known. Apparently college boys and Broadway musicals didn't belong in the same sentence, let alone the same dorm room.

Blaine shivered as he opened the door and wrapped his arms around himself, laughing a little as the dark hairs stood up straight, apparently just as cold as he was. Of course, that was what he got for walking outside with only a pair of ragged pajama bottoms on in the middle of November, and in Montana, no less. His old high school buddies had called him crazy for leaving Ohio, but there had been something about the quaint private college on the rims of the Rocky Mountains that had just called out to him, so, crazy or not, he'd left, and he'd never been happier.

That is, he would have been happy if the kid doing laundry would stop singing. As he trudged down the stairs, he realized that the sound was getting louder. And nobody else could hear this? Were they all passed out drunk? It wasn't unheard of, even on a weekday, and he scowled in consternation as he rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs and reached the door to the laundry room. The kid was good, Blaine admitted, sounding like a younger Celine Dion. Still, it was Celine or physics, and physics won hands down.

"Excuse me," he began as he pushed open the door and stepped into the muggy room. He hated how the different detergents everyone used mixed in the air, forming a toxic fog that had, to his shame, made him avoid doing his own laundry for the last three weeks. No one else complained though; most called him oversensitive, and he figured he'd get over that. He would work on it, he promised himself. After he got some sleep and aced his physics exam. "Can you tone it down a bit? I've got a...test...tomorrow..." his words drifted off as he caught sight of the boy folding his laundry.

He was quite possibly the most beautiful thing Blaine had ever seen.

Tall, slim, with soft brown curls that begged for Blaine to touch, and a quirky grin upon luscious lips that were now singing a sassy rendition of Def Leppard's "Animal," as he deftly folded a simple green and white striped polo shirt with long-fingered, neatly-manicured hands.

Blaine blinked in surprise. How had he never seen this boy before? He had to grit his teeth to keep his jaw from dropping as the boy did a little shuffle dance over to the dryer, singing, "Like a fire needs flame, I burn for you," and that was when Blaine noticed the headphones. Of course, the boy couldn't hear him, and if he was anything like Blaine, he'd be embarrassed as all hell when he realized he had an audience. Still, Blaine couldn't bring himself to interrupt, so mesmerized was he by the sway of the boy's hips in black designer jeans, and Blaine bit his tongue to keep from moaning.

Goodbye, physics, a snarky voice whispered in the back of his mind, but he brushed it off.

Blaine Anderson had officially fallen in love.


	2. Chapter 2

"Like a fire needs a flame, I burn for you..."

Kurt reveled in the music as he painstakingly folded his laundry. Though Def Leppard wasn't his favorite artist, he had come to appreciate the rocking music as a contrast to his much beloved Broadway favorites, and was glad he'd let his brother talk him into it. And the lyrics were pretty good, he admitted to himself. And helped him to forget the rest of the world, if only for a moment.

His day hadn't gone all that well, to be perfectly frank.

First there was the mix-up with the doctor. He had confirmed and verified and double-checked again and again that their monthly appointment with Doctor Julian was at two-thirty in the afternoon, between his last class and cheer practice. Only to get there and find that it had been moved to three-thirty. Of course, he could have rescheduled, but Kurt was nothing if not stubborn, and with his self-enforced limitation on driving and using up precious fossil fuels, he wasn't about to waste the ten miles worth that he had already spent, to go ten back and another twenty when it was rescheduled.

Of course, it made sense, then, that his second issue was in showing up late to practice. Not that he minded, he wasn't on the team itself, but the dragon lady who called herself Coach Sue definitely minded that one of her star performers wasn't on time. Though honestly, she hadn't made as much of a fuss as he had expected when she'd heard the excuse. Still, she had eyed him suspiciously the entire conversation, and when Brittany came back to the dorm after practice, she had whined about being more exhausted than usual, proof positive that the coach had run her through the wringer.

And that was the third thing that had gone wrong today--or yesterday, as the case may be. Brittany had decided to spring on him a paper that she had on Roman architecture. A paper that was due the very next day. He'd yelled at her for about thirty seconds before he caught sight of those beautiful blue eyes of hers brimming with tears, and then had taken her by the hand, led her over to the desk, and helped her to write a ten page paper. She had made it worthwhile, though, with her funny, obscure commentary on the rest of her day as he read over her notes and helped her to form complete, and sensible arguments that he was sure would get her at least a B. It had taken him awhile to figure out how to do that, but by the end of her second senior year, he had somehow mastered it, and now here she was, a second-year college student with a 3.4 GPA.

His pride in their combined work, however, had taken a backseat as the fourth and last issue had cropped up, which was what had led him to start doing laundry at eleven at night, and continued into the wee hours of the morning.

Kurt shook his head, trying to shake away the worry and the stress of the day, and trying not to think of how tired he was going to be later that day, when he had his biggest load of classes of the week. He would get through this, just like he had gotten through every other problem and setback in his crazy, mixed up life.

"And I want and I need and I lust," he continued singing, the lyrics making him grin, only to stop as a coughing fit started behind him. He whipped off his headphones in surprise and embarrassment, and turned around to see who had caught him singing in the laundry room, and then froze.

The boy was hunched over, laughing between coughs, and Kurt thought he heard a curse somewhere in there, but even from that view he was...something.

Messy black curls gleamed in the overhead light, with red highlights reflecting when he moved his head. He had an urge to reach out and touch, but his eye was caught by the rest of the boy. His shoulders were broad, and tanned, surprising for this time of year, but a stray voice in Kurt's mind said it was probably his ethnicity. The voice was drowned out, though, by the fact that his shoulders were not only broad, but bared. Even more surprising considering the chill in the air, and yet, he couldn't fault him. The muscles of his back and shoulders flexed with every sound that came from the boy, and Kurt snapped his mouth shut as he realized he was on the verge of drooling.

"Stop it," he snapped quietly, as the boy finally said, "Ah, sorry, I--"

Kurt inhaled slowly, not noticing the other boy fail to complete his sentence as he met warm, hazel eyes. Yet, even as he labeled them, he rejected it. They weren't just hazel. They were golden and amber and alive and--

He coughed, cutting off his own train of thought, and blushed a little bit as he asked, "Did you need something, Mister--?"

The boy grinned, and Kurt swore his heart stopped.

 _Stop it!_ he screamed inside, all the while smiling on the outside.

"Blaine," the boy replied, his voice matching everything on the outside. He held out his hand, and Kurt took it tremulously in his own grip. "Blaine Anderson. And you are?"

"Kurt," he said faintly, wondering why holding this guy's hand felt like everything was right with the world, and then released it, and brought his hand back to his side, wiping it surreptitiously on his old black jeans. "So, Mister Anderson, what brings you to the laundry room at--" he hazarded a glance down at the watch on and his brows rose in surprise, "--three in the morning?"

"Ah, you actually," he replied with a grin, and Kurt blinked.

No way.

"Excuse me?" _And please don't tell me I've just fallen in love at first sight with a crazy person._

"I heard you singing," he began, and Kurt blushed as his meaning fell into place.

"Oh, my god, I'm so sorry. You were sleeping weren't you? And I woke you up. Oh, my god. I didn't mean to bother anyone, I just had a laundry emergency, and I--"

He was cut off by the boy--Blaine's laughter, and he reveled in the sound.

"Hey, no worries, Kurt."

He grinned and Kurt couldn't help but grin in return. His name sounded so right falling from those lips. He blinked then, and his smile fell just the slightest bit. He really shouldn't be thinking about another person's lips, even if they did look ripe and luscious and--

_Stop it!_

"Well, I am sorry," he began. "I hope you don't have an early class in the morning?"

"Well, actually--"

"Oh, hold on a minute," Kurt cut him off as he felt a vibration at his side. He slid his phone out of his pocket, and flipped it open, wondering who was texting him at this time of night, and then went pale as he read the three short words.

_She's sick again. :(_

"I'm sorry, Blaine--" And God, what was with names sounding right, especially at a time like this? "--I have to get back to my dorm."

He started gathering up his clothes, wincing a little at the wrinkles that would likely develop in the apparel he hadn't managed to fold yet, and dropped them into the green and blue basket at his feet.

"Roommate problem?"

"Ah, it's my girlfriend," he said as he bent to pick up the overflowing basket, and only faintly registered as the smile fell from Blaine's face and his eyes went dull. "Sorry about the singing. It was nice to meet you," he added and pushed out the door and back into the cold.


	3. Chapter 3

Blaine spent most of his physics test that morning caught between two things.

The first was the-man-without-the-last-name Kurt's eyes.

While those around his were seeing crisp white walls and trying to remember what the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle was, he was back in the laundry room, staring into deep eyes the color of...he couldn't say what color his eyes were, actually. First they were blue, then green, and gray, swirling together a moment before one took precedence over the other, and he had felt his heart give a thud as they made contact with his. The word cyan crossed his mind, but he just as quickly discarded it. It would take years of staring into those beautiful eyes to find a single word to describe them.

That thought ran right to the second thing Blaine was caught on.

" _It's my girlfriend_."

Three little innocuous words that somehow managed to tear him into pieces. Which was ridiculous, really, considering he'd only been in the other boy's presence for a grand total of five minutes before he'd said them, and that was completely...well, ridiculous. Why in the world should he care so much? So the man was straight. Big deal? It's not like he'd have given Blaine the time of day is he wasn't. Right?

"Right," Blaine said aloud and then winced as a chorus of " _Shhhh_ " erupted around him.

He'd almost forgotten where he was. He sighed and glanced around the room, his gaze landing on the clock. And then he froze.

A million curse words bubbled to his lips, but he locked them down and started scribbling answers furiously as the clock ticked away the last ten minutes of class.

~ + ~ + ~ + ~

As a general rule, Kurt was not a morning person. It was with that thought in mind that he hadn't scheduled any of his classes to start before ten am. On Tuesdays, however, there was a lab at half past seven for his chem class, and, not wanting to conflict with any of Brittany's classes, as the other two offered labs would, he had decided he could handle getting up early one day a week.

Not to say he wasn't up early anyway, but there was a difference between 'eyes open' awake and 'are you seriously asking me to concentrate on some lame theory I'm never going to use in the real world before my morning coffee?' awake. So, from the start, it was pretty obvious to Kurt that he wouldn't be having a good morning.

What wasn't obvious was the fact that he wouldn't be making his lab at all, nor would he be making his journalism class at nine-thirty, or drawing at eleven, or...well, it was only eleven-thirty, so there was a possibility that he might make his writing course at one. From the state of things, however, he highly doubted it.

The state of things being as such:

His brother Finn had called at six in the morning--six!--to tell him that Rachel had disappeared. Just vanished. Poof. And he wondered if she had contacted him. It obviously never occurred to him to wonder at a more reasonable hour, like, _after the sun had risen_ , just as an example. Of course with the two-hour time difference from Montana to New York, it wasn't out of line to think that his own eight am time time was an acceptable one to call. But after three months, you'd think the man would have gotten used to it.

Still, Rachel's disappearance was odd, especially considering she was supposedly mid-rehearsal for a student-run production of Rent with her fellow NYADA comrades that was due to open in two weeks, just after her finals for the semester were over. And she was playing _Maureen_ , for god's sake. Apparently, though, the perfectly-suited role didn't attract her enough to stay. Not that those vultures--that is, students in her school didn't have someone as an understudy, he presumed, but still.

And Finn had no clue what had made her leave. She'd been _happy_ , school was _great_ , they were _finally_ planning their wedding together.

And then she was gone, and Kurt was woken from the precious little sleep he had gotten to hear about it, and just...

That was exhibit A.

Exhibit _B_ was what had kept Kurt awake despite his tiredness.

Exhibit B was what had kept Kurt up so late in the first place with the laundry.

Exhibit B was what made Kurt miss all his classes that day.

Exhibit B was a three-year-old little girl that went by the name of Sunny.


	4. Chapter 4

Of all the things that Kurt Hummel had not planned on in his life, becoming best friends with his first and last girlfriend was one of them.

They had started out under rather strange circumstances. Kurt wanted Brittany because of some misbegotten notion that his father would love him more if he were straight. Brittany wanted Kurt so she could achieve her perfect record of making out with every guy in the school. In a weird way, it was win-win. And of course, everything got turned around in the end. Kurt was one hundred percent gay and there was nothing he could do to change that.

As relieved as he had been to have it out with his father, Kurt found himself terrified at what Brittany would say. He was pleasantly surprised, however, when she smiled, promised to still be his friend, and told him, "You are so totally unicorn, Kurt." He hadn't understood what she meant at the time, but he was just glad to be honest with her, and himself, and while he accepted her words of friendship, he really didn't figure they would ever hang out outside of glee club again.

Fate had different ideas, however.

A lot of people tended to take advantage of the often-clueless cheerleader that Kurt had first described to a friend as 'A Girl Who Thinks the Square Root of 4 is Rainbows.' Kurt had known this beforehand, but after their short time dating, and getting to know her a little better, he suddenly found himself more aware of her. And after a particularly dangerous incident when Brittany almost got in the car of a bunch of drunk football players, Kurt declared himself her protector, and suddenly found that their after-breakup friendship was futile to resist.

Brittany came to him for everything, whether she was hurt, or in trouble, or just wanted someone to talk with when the world wasn't being fair. Kurt had his own more-than-fair share of the world giving him the shaft; despite his friendship with the popular girl, the bullying and the teasing, and those damned cold slushy facials that sprung from his daring to be different within the halls of McKinley High didn't stop. For awhile after their breakup, actually, they'd gotten worse, as if in retaliation for daring to snub one of the elite. But just as he was always there for Brittany, she was always there for him, and he had to admit, the world looked a lot brighter when she was there to pick him up when he fell, and to wash the cherry stains from his porcelain skin.

Kurt appreciated her more than he could say, and had come to love the girl behind the cheer uniform, and all the bizarre, guaranteed-to-be-utterly-confusing statements she would make at random. He became one of her staunchest supporters, and whoa to anyone who dared to call the ditzy blonde 'stupid.'

Then, the summer before junior year happened.

With his grudging approval, Brittany had started seeing one of the seniors at the end of their sophomore year. His name was Eddie, and he was everything Kurt could have asked for for his best friend, despite his presence taking her away from him: tall, blonde, beautiful just like Brittany, funny, kind, and patient. Patient was the most important factor, and when he saw the earnesty behind it, Kurt couldn't allow a single complaint to fall from his lips. Brittany was absolutely besotted with the boy, and they spent most of the summer together, still calling Kurt to join them on their escapades to the local pool, or trips to Cedar Point, but he begged off, not wanting to intrude on the happy couple. And Kurt could see they _were_ happy, which helped to dim the pain he felt when he realized he would likely have to find himself a new best friend.

The search was called off before it even began, however. Late one humid August morning a very teary Brittany called to say Eddie was gone. They'd both known, of course, that he was set for the east coast; what they hadn't known was that he had no plans to come back. Kurt was horrified that he hadn't seen this coming, and even more so when Brittany let slip that it had happened the night before, and Kurt just knew that she had been crying all night. He didn't bother chastising her for not calling him right away; in that sweet, innocent mind of hers, she had probably thought he needed to sleep. Instead, he immediately invited her over for a spa day, complete with oatmeal facials and low-fat frozen yogurt, and what she needed the most, a shoulder to cry on.

Only when she arrived, that wasn't the only thing she wanted to cry on, and Kurt had, from almost the very beginning, been a sucker for Brittany's tears. They went beyond hand-holding for the first time since they'd broken up, and then even beyond that, and, well...

Kurt sarcastically referred to that moment as 'The Blessed Event.'

And that was how Sunflower Elizabeth Hummel, also known as Sunny, came into this world.


	5. Chapter 5

"Daddy, it hurts."

Kurt shushed the little girl in his arms and rocked her gently back and forth, brushing his left hand through her soft, honey-blonde curls.

"I know, baby, I know."

"I think my fever went up."

He paused and had to wonder, not for the first time, at how well-spoken she was for a three-year-old.

"Am I gonna die, Daddy?"

She was also a bit of a hypochondriac.

"Oh, baby, no," he rocked her a little more urgently, and smiled into her hair. "Of course not. You just have a little bug. You'll be feeling fine tomorrow, no doubt."

She raised blue eyes inherited from her mother to meet his gaze.

"Are you sure?"

_Dear god, I hope so_ , he thought, but only smiled and brushed a kiss to her damp, fevered brow.

"Absolutely positive. It's almost lunchtime, baby. Did you want to try some crackers?"

Her eyes lit up, and he gave an inner cry of victory that she felt up to eating when she put a hand gently to his face and asked, "Can I have some Sprite, too?"

Kurt couldn't help but laugh at the way she tilted her head to the side, calculating yet innocent at the same time, and he rolled his eyes. Despite treating the girl like a princess, Kurt refused to spoil her. Creating a well-mannered beauty was one thing. Making a rotten little monster, on the other hand, was a can of worms that he did _not_ want to open. Sunny wore only handmade creations of the simplest, most durable fabrics--Kurt wouldn't have had it any other way, really--and she had a proper bedtime that was stuck to like a marine stuck to patrol duty. She wasn't allowed to watch anything that wasn't educational on the telly, and even then, it had to pass some seriously high standards before Kurt would let his baby girl anywhere near it. Despite his own love for the show as a kid, Sesame Street was out--what kind of educational show had a character that said 'Me want!' all the time?

In addition to all that, she was kept on a very strict diet. One that included fruits and vegetables and a daily children's vitamin. One that did _not_ include things like the high fructose corn syrup found in sodas. Brittany being Brittany though, wasn't always the most reliable concerning food smarts. And no matter how many times he told her to get what was on the list and nothing else when she went shopping, somehow there always seemed to be some sweet, sugary confection and a bottle of soda added to the receipt. When she'd let Sunny have a taste of her Sprite a few weeks ago, Kurt had threatened to go to Coach Sue with her non-cheer-conforming eating habits, and since then she had been pretty good about it. Their little girl, though, had been gaga for the drink ever since, and after hearing her mother tell stories about getting the 'sweet water,' as she called it, whenever she was sick as a child, it just figured that Sunny would ask for it when she was sick herself.

The little girl was still staring up at him, hope and light shining in those big bright eyes, and he sighed and pressed a kiss the hand on his face.

"I'll ask Mommy to pick some up after cheer practice, if you can wait that long?"

She grinned widely, her dimple showing for the first time in almost a day, and hugged him tightly.

"You're my favorite, Daddy."

"If I didn't know that comma was there, I'd wonder about your motivations in telling me that, baby."

"Hmm?"

"Never mind," he said, and shifted her completely to his right arm while he grabbed his phone from his pocket with his left and dialled Brittany's cell.

~ + ~ + ~ + ~

"Um, Jake, what is this?"

When Blaine had decided to dish out a little extra for his own room when he got to college, he figured it would save him a lot of stress that living with another person in his space might entail. And okay, so what he actually ended up was his own room within a four-bedroom suite, which also included a kitchen and living area, plus two bathrooms (though only one with a shower, unfortunately). He completely lucked out in the roommate department; Nick and Jeff were always having sleepovers with their ' _femme du jour_ ,' so he rarely saw them except for the nights before exams when they would scowl at him for being perfectly calm and shuffle off to their rooms with coffee and other energy supplements and drinks in hand. And they were clean, and didn't mind that he took up half the fridge with all the food he ate, or the cupboards with all the dishware his mother insisted on sending him.

His third roommate, however, was a bit of a nuisance. And, okay, so he genuinely liked the guy, nuisance or not, but he was loud, and obnoxious, and messy, and had the other half of the refrigerator filled will take-out boxes that appeared to be the start of a brand new colony of sentient life. It wouldn't have been so bad, he could have cleaned them up, nice and easy, except Blaine had made the mistake of suggesting Jake name them, and the other boy agreed, completely missing the exasperated, sarcastic tinge to his voice.

And now Jake stood at his door, tall and awkward, his dark hair sticking up in every direction, a ratty old t-shirt hanging loosely on his frame, as he held out a pile of what appeared to be blank CDs to Blaine.

"I don't need to burn anything, Jake--"

"No, no, no. This is Project Increase Blaine's Music Rep."

"Excuse me?" he cocked his head to the side and stared while the boy explained.

"See, every CD you've got there is a mix of what's been popular on the radio in, say, the last ten years."

"I...see."

"Yeah, so you can know more than your Disney and Broadway stuff. Not that there's anything wrong with those," he rushed to add as Blaine cocked a brow, clearly unaware of how hard Blaine was trying not to laugh. "But something so you can join in on a modern music discussion."

"How...thoughtful of you."

"Yeah, well..."

"And they're not labeled because?"

Jake's eyes lit up, as if that were the question he were waiting for, and Blaine stifled a groan.

"That's part of the the thing. See, if I labeled them, you'd be so focused on the names and titles that you couldn't really take in the music and just enjoy it for what it is."

"And what is it?"

"Rock and roll, Blainers. Rock and roll."

He couldn't help the wince at the nickname, but he had long since given up on getting the boy to stop using it. He cracked a smile then, as he asked, "So, if I'm trying to take in this 'rock and roll,' as you say, and without titles and such, just how am I supposed to join in on that 'modern music discussion' you mentioned?"

His smile grew to full-blown grin as he watched Jake take in his words, and his own smile turned to a look of dismay.

"Well, shut my mouth."

"If only," Blaine quipped and laughed when Jake scowled. "But thanks, man. This was really thoughtful."

"Really?" he queried, suspicion mixing with the hope in his eyes.

"Really. I'll put it on while I finish up my psych paper."

"Yeah," Jake grinned, nodding emphatically. "That's cool. Oh, by the way, did you wanna maybe go out later tonight?"

Blaine inhaled sharply as the image of Kurt super-imposed itself on his roommate, and he surreptitiously pinched himself to wake from the daydream of the beautiful boy he had only met the night before asking him out. Which was ridiculous. Jake looked nothing like Kurt, _sounded_ nothing like him, either. The only thing the two had in common was their unavailability, that is, their straight-as-a-two-by-four aspect.

"Ah, Blaine?"

He shook his head, and smiled up at his roommate, pushing the thoughts aside. It would be good to get outside, distract himself from thoughts that would only leave him bitter in the end.

"Sorry, yeah, I'd love to go out," he replied with a grin, and then winked. "If you're paying."


	6. Chapter 6

Kurt had never been so happy for a week to be over.

As he had promised her, Sunny had felt perfectly fine come Wednesday morning, running around and chattering as if she had been given extra energy to make up for the time she had been ill. Brittany, on the other hand, had started throwing up Tuesday afternoon, right after returning from the grocery store with Sunny's precious Sprite, and was pale even now, on Friday night, and the thought of any food besides saltines and 'sweet water' made her turn positively green.

Kurt supposed he should have been thankful that he hadn't caught whatever bug his girls had gotten, but he was a little too stressed about taking care of them to be so. He had put Brittany on immediate quarantine the whole week, and so had been rushing back to the dorm between all his classes to check on both her and Sunny, who before the first day was out, had grown decidedly upset at not being able to play with Mommy. His only respite came on Friday morning when his friend Noah knocked on his door and declared he was skipping classes and starting the weekend early, and would Kurt care to join him?

Kurt had declined the invitation but had somehow managed to wrangle the truant into watching after the girls so he could focus on his classes without worry. Noah had sent him several texts throughout the day, as many asking where something was as complaining about what a drag babysitting on a Friday, even during daylight hours, was. Kurt knew it was all just talk, though. When he walked through the door after his last class of the day had ended at one, he was greeted with a loud, heated, back and forth debate about the virtues of the unicorn versus the pegasus that Noah was having with Brittany as he sat outside her door while Sunny painted his nails a vivid, sparkly blue.

"One word and you're dead, Hummel," he said before launching into a long rejoinder on how flying was way cooler than anything a unicorn could do, and it was all Kurt could do not to laugh.

That had been hours ago, though, and Kurt couldn't find it in him to laugh when he was washing out Brittany's sheets for the third time that week. He didn't understand why her sickness was lingering so long. Sunny was right as rain in twenty-four hours. But Brittany? He shook his head and turned up the volume on his iPod as he switched the sheets from the washer to the drier.

" _So it's times like these I wonder how I take it—_ "

If someone had told him back in high school that he'd be playing homemaker while still in college, he would have called them crazy. He was Kurt Hummel, fashionista extraordinaire, and the bright lights of New York City were calling him away. Even after Sunny, that was still his destination. Except when he realized that Brittany's parents had no plans to pay for any of her schooling, or any other monetary needs she might have, and he was stuck between a school in Oklahoma and one in Montana, both of which were 'legacy' schools for Brittany, her parents having attended each, which meant that she would be able to pay in-state tuition. And then the Montana school was the only one that had enough sympathy for their situation to give her a scholarship as well, plus a cheerleading position, which was key. Getting scholarships for himself wasn't such an issue; Kurt was just glad they had accepted his credits from the community college he had attended while Brittany finished her high school degree.

" _For just another day...For another stolen hour._ "

The words reverberated throughout his being, and Kurt sighed. If he was being realistic, he had to admit he had it better than the characters he was singing of. But the funny thing about musicals like _Next to Normal_ was that their problems only lasted the three hours it took, give or take, to perform the show. After the curtain went down, the actors could go back to their daily lives without a care. There was no final curtain for Kurt and his girls. He was stuck, for better or for worse. And apart from the time he did his laundry, or when putting Sunny to bed, he couldn't even spare the time to sing about it.

Kurt wiped angrily at a tear that had somehow made its way down his cheek.

" _It only hurts when I think._ "

He knew he was being a bit ridiculous. It was almost Thanksgiving, and he always got a bit melancholy towards the holidays. He knew this was in large part due to his mother; she had loved celebrating the holidays, decorating the house, cooking the mountains of food such occasions required, and when she had passed away the fall of his eighth year, Kurt hadn't been able to reconcile his love of holidays with his love of her, and so they were always a bit of a bittersweet time. Things had gotten better as he got older, but there was still a tug of pain in his heart.

Add all that into the fact that he was exhausted and there was no one he could really talk to and he was sick and god-damned tired of playing the responsible one.

" _And I think the house is spinning_ ," he finished the song brokenly, and then jumped as a voice intruded.

"Are laundry-room concerts your thing, or am I just the lucky fellow who gets the free VIP tickets?"


	7. Chapter 7

"Is it really that time already?"

"Well, of course, silly, you didn't think time stopped just because you were having fun, did it?"

The blonde man sighed, and shook his head as he looked down at his blonde counterpart.

"Sometimes, I think you say things in that sweet innocent voice of yours just because you know it gets on my nerves."

"Oh, do I, now?" she laughed, and he smiled and leant down to press a quick kiss to her lips.

"Quinn, you will be the death of me."

"Always the plan, Sam. Always the plan."

"Am I interrupting anything?"

The two turned as one--and times like now, it really did seem like they were the same perfect, beautiful, blonde creature split into two--and smiles lit up both their faces as they faced the tall, slim, brunette leaning in the doorway.

"Mister Hummel," Sam grinned and reached out a hand in greeting. "How are you?"

"Just fine, Professor. And you?"

"Never better. Great paper on Thoreau, by the way. You never cease to amaze me with your grasp of the English language, Mister Hummel."

Kurt couldn't help but preen at the words, though he kept his reaction mostly internal.

"Thank you, sir. That means a lot, coming from you."

Sam smiled gently at the younger man, and then turned back to Quinn.

"Well, honey, I think that's my cue to exit. I'll see you later tonight, then?"

"Of course, Sam. And thanks again for all your help."

"Anytime," he grinned, pressing another quick kiss to her lips before walking past Kurt and out the door.

Kurt's eyes followed him down the hall for a moment before he turned back to the beautiful former cheerleader and raised a brow.

"Fraternizing with the enemy, Quinn?"

She scoffed at his words, and pulled him further into the room before pushing him down into a cushy velvet brown sofa.

"Please, Kurt. He's just my ex."

"And he kissed you."

"He does it all the time."

"What did he help you with?"

"Just fixing some virus on my computer."

"And you're seeing him again tonight?"

For the first time, she looked remotely uncomfortable before she sunk down into the chair across from him and said, "His mother is in town, and I promised I would have dinner with them."

That delicate brow arched once more as Kurt said bluntly, "You've been divorced how many years now? Five?"

"Just four," she corrected, a slight flush on her creamy skin, and she sighed. "I told you how the Evanses took me in back in high school. His mother is like _my_ mother. I can't just not go to dinner when she asks."

Kurt rolled his eyes but only commented, "You know, for being a certified counselor at a high-brow university, you sure do have a lot of unresolved issues."

"I like to think that makes me more approachable," she said sweetly, and stood once more to walk over to the small counterspace off to the side. "Would you like some tea, Kurt? Oh, and I have those ginger cookies you love."

He could feel his mouth salivating at the thought, but he shook his head.

"Just tea, please, thank you."

As much as he loved the sweet treat, he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt every time he went outside the bounds of his strictly-regimented diet. It just wasn't fair of him to harp on Brittany so much about what she ate and then turn around and make the same mistakes himself. Quinn eyed him knowingly, but nodded as she turned the kettle on. Kurt took a moment to take in the room. It was full of warm tones, browns and golds mixed throughout the eclectic jumble of furniture, with a deep honey gold on the walls, the only accents being a dark green leaf pattern toward the ceiling. It wasn't a show-place, no, but it was cozy, and warm, and Kurt somehow felt at home whenever he stepped inside Quinn's offices.

"So what brings you to my humble abode?" she began, sitting again across from him. "We usually don't meet until Monday. Not to mention it's the weekend."

"I saw your car on my way to the practice rooms, and thought you might have a moment or two," he shrugged and she smiled in return.

"So what's going on, then? Tell me what couldn't wait until Monday."

"It's not so much that it couldn't wait," he hedged and flushed a little as he said, "I just don't want Brittany to know yet."

Her green eyes widened, though there was a spark of mischief in them as she said casually, "You know you shouldn't keep secrets from your lover, Kurt. It's not healthy for the relationship."

He leveled a glare at her and shook his head.

"Quinn, please. I like you, but there's only so much I can take before I decide to splurge on a psychiatrist from one of those fancy high-rises downtown."

"Yes, because your pocketbook is just bursting at the seems," she said lightly before retaining a serious expression. "I'm sorry, Kurt. I'll be good, I promise. So what did you want to tell me?"

He looked around the room, anywhere but at her, catching a hint of snowfall out the half-closed drapes over the window on the far wall, and then blurted, "I may have met someone."

Kurt jumped at the squeal that started simultaneously with the sharp whistle of the kettle, and then laughed as Quinn got up, gave him a quick hug, before dancing over to turn off the burner beneath the kettle and poured them both a cup of tea.

"That's so exciting, Kurt!"

"Uh, yeah," he laughed, blushing still.

She somehow managed not to spill a drop as she danced back over to him, teacups in hand, and put them down on the small glass coffee table between their chairs. Instead of sitting across from him as she had, she squeezed in next to him on the sofa, and he shifted over a little to give her room. Her eyes were wide and excited as she turned to look at him, and put her hand on his arm, squeezing gently, as she leaned into him.

"Tell me everything."

He rolled his eyes and gently extricated his shirt from her grasp.

"There's not much to tell, really."

"What's his name?"

"Blaine. Blaine Anderson."

She nodded thoughtfully.

"I know him. He hasn't come in to see me, but he's good people. He always plays at the talent show, and he's Professor Libby's assistant in the physics lab."

"Physics? Well, damn, he might be too smart for me, then."

"Oh, hush," she swatted at him tenderly. "You could do anything you want, Kurt; you're smarter than me, even."

"Well, I already knew that."

"Hey!"

"But seriously," he shook his head, reigning in his grin, "I really like him."

"And he likes you."

"Well, I don't know about that..."

"Come on, Kurt. What's not to like? Other than that whole high-maintenance without actually being able to afford it thing."

"You're not helping, Quinn."

"Sorry, sorry. So how did you meet?"

Kurt blushed again, and bit his lip.

"It's embarrassing, really. He caught me singing Def Leppard in the laundry room."

"Def Leppard? You?" She cocked her head to the side, contemplating, before shaking it in the negative. "Sorry, I can't see it."

"Yeah, well, I was singing, quite loudly, at three in the morning."

"Oh, ouch," she winced, and he nodded.

"Yeah. I'd had an emergency with Sunny--"

"Oh, no, is she all right?"

"Yeah, it was just a little bug. Gone in a day. But so I was doing laundry, and I had my iPod turned way up, and then one moment I turned around, and there he was."

"The most beautiful thing you had ever seen," Quinn teased, and he grinned.

"Well, yeah, you could say that."

"And he asked you out?"

"Uh, no," he returned, his grin falling. "Brittany sent a text that Sunny was sick again, so I had to run."

"Oh, well, shoot. Not that you shouldn't have gone, but what timing."

"You're telling me."

"So what happened next?"

"Next?"

"Come on, Kurt, you can't make me believe it ended there."

"Well...okay. So then yesterday, I was doing laundry again--"

"And what did he catch you singing this time?"

He flushed a little before answering, " _Next to Normal_ 's 'Just Another Day.'"

"Ooh, I love that musical."

"Yeah, it's my dream show," Kurt sighed, and they sat in silence a moment, both dreaming of what might have been had they gone out east--or _stayed_ out east, in Quinn's case. And then Quinn nudged him back to reality and he turned to look at her beautifully made-up face, and sighed. "What's next?"

"What's next," she nodded, and he sighed again.

"Nothing, really. We talked for a little bit; he asked after Brittany--"

"You told him about Brittany?" she asked, surprised and curious at once.

"Nothing in-depth," he shook his head. "But I'd mentioned her the last time, when I had to cut our conversation short."

"I see," she nodded. "Go on."

"And so I mentioned how she was sick--"

"I thought Sunny had been sick?"

"She got better, and then Brittany caught it, and has been sick since Wednesday."

"Oh, the poor girl."

"Yeah, well, she's feeling better this morning, anyway. Enough that I took her off of quarantine so she could watch Sunny."

"Quarantine, Kurt? Really?"

"I couldn't risk Sunny getting sick again," he retorted defensively, sitting up straighter as he did so. "She's just a baby."

Quinn's expression turned soft, and she laid a hand on his knee.

"I'm sorry, Kurt. That makes perfect sense, really. I just don't know too much about kids, so I wouldn't think of that."

He sniffed, only slightly mollified by her words, but let it pass.

"Yes, well, so Blaine and I talked about how there seemed to be a bug going around, and then he asked me about my classes, and what I was majoring in and stuff, and then he got called away, and I finished my laundry in peace."

Quinn waited a moment, as if for him to add something, and when he didn't, asked, "Is that it?"

"Um, yes?"

"He didn't ask you out for coffee or dinner or the rest of his life?"

Kurt couldn't help but laugh at the outrage on her face, and pressed his hand to hers over his knee.

"Quinn, I know you think I'm great, but honestly, this guy was gorgeous. If you've seen him--"

"I've seen him."

"Then you know. He could have any guy he wanted."

"But how many gay guys are there in Montana, Kurt?"

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't want him to want me just because his options are limited."

She raised a brow, and simply stared at him, her expression calculating, and after a moment, Kurt began to fidget under her gaze.

"What? Do I have something on my face?"

She spent another moment staring before setting back and picking up her tea, and taking a sip. Kurt took that opportunity to take his up as well, and he reached for the sugarbowl at the end of the table and grabbed a few cubes before stirring them into his beverage.

"I wonder," Quinn began, and he eyes her curiously.

"Yes?"

"Does he know you're gay?"

Kurt laughed, and took a drink before replying, "Quinn, come on. Have you looked at me? I may be on a budget, but no straight man looks as good as I do. And unless their into that whole goth thing--"

"Ew."

"Then there is not a one of them who would dare to wear skinny jeans like I do."

"And silvery, sparkly ones at that," she mused and he rolled his eyes.

"You know you could pull them off, too, if you wanted."

"That's the problem, Kurt. I don't think I could get them off after I got them on." They both laughed at the image that brought up before she continued, "But I'm serious, Kurt. Even in Montana, you can't judge somebody by their cover. And you were singing Def Leppard the night you met."

"But I was singing Celine Dion and _Gypsy_ before that," he returned, "and since I probably woke him up that night, there's no doubt he heard at least one of those before he got to the laundry room. And _Next to Normal_? It might not be a frou-frou show, but it's still Broadway, Q."

She nodded slowly, and then asked, "So maybe he's straight, then?"

"Oh, God, Quinn, don't crush me. And I'm pretty sure no, he's not, because most straight guys don't casually flirt with other guys."

"So he does like you," she grinned, and he sighed.

"I don't know. Maybe?"

"But he didn't ask you out," she frowned again, and he laughed.

"It was only our second meeting, Quinn. I don't think--what's wrong?"

Quinn's eyes had suddenly gone wide, as if she'd had an epiphany, and she looked at Kurt in a what seemed suspiciously like horror.

"Quinn?"

"Brittany," she said simply, and he waited but she didn't elaborate, and he rolled his shoulders back in irritation.

"What about Brittany?"

"When you mentioned her to him, how did you do it?"

"What do you mean, how did I do it?"

"Did you say her name or what?"

"Because he would totally get who I was talking about if I just randomly said Brittany needed me," Kurt scoffed, and she shook her head and put her cup of tea down on the table before taking his as well, and putting her hands on his face. "Quinn, what are you--"

"What did you call her, Kurt?"

As a school counselor, it was pretty much an unspoken rule that you had to be approachable and friendly, and nice, to boot. Quinn was all that and more, and Kurt had never regretted cultivating their friendship outside of the sessions he had with her and his other girls every week. He had just now discovered, however, that there was another side to Quinn. A dark, _scary_ side.

Her eyes flashed, and he gulped down over his sudden nerves, and said, "I just said that my girlfr--"

And then it clicked.

"Shit."


	8. Chapter 8

" _You make me feel like I'm livin' a--_ "

"I take it you like Katy Perry?"

Blaine snapped his gaze up from where he had been strumming his guitar to the door, and then laughed as he noted the smirk on his roommate's face as he leaned into the doorway.

"I was just messing around with an idea for an acoustic version," he said, lifting the guitar a few centimeters, as if Jake hadn't noticed, and then grabbed up a pen and began scribbling in the notebook in front of him. "Katie Perry, is that with an -i-e, or--"

"K-a-t-y."

"Y. Got it, thanks. I didn't know who was singing, since _someone_ didn't bother to label the mixes he gave me."

"Sounds like a right bastard to me," Jake replied and Blaine laughed.

"Nah, he's a pretty chill guy, actually. So how've you been, man? Or better question, where have you been? I haven't seen you since you made these mixes for me."

Jake grinned dopily and sat at the foot of Blaine's bed before falling back against the black- and blue-checked quilt.

"I have been sleeping with a goddess," he said profoundly, and Blaine rolled his eyes.

"And here we go," he said softly, his tone full of irony, and he put his guitar aside to focus on his friend.

"Does this goddess have a name, perchance?"

"Santana," he breathed out on a sigh, and Blaine paused.

"Santana _Lopez_?"

"Yeah..."

"Isn't she with that Puckerman kid?"

"That's in the past, my friend. Now, it's all about the Jakester."

"Oh, god," he muttered and laughed softly.

"I am in love, man."

"No kidding?"

"I swear, this is the real thing."

Blaine eyed him a moment, taking in the haze of his dark eyes, the peaceful, contented smile on his face, and said, "Twenty bucks and an hour alone with your X-Box says it's not."

He watched in delight as Jake shot upright on the quilt and proceeded to glare at him.

"How dare you. You doubt my love?"

Blaine's grin amped up a notch as he shook his head. "Yours? No. Santana's? I'm afraid to say that I do."

"What foul words are these?" he cried, standing on the bed now. "You may say what you will of me, my friend, but to speak ill of my lady? It shall not pass. I challenge thee to a _Left 4 Dead_ duel!"

"Accepted," Blaine nodded immediately and stood to shake his hand. "But I'm still betting that twenty plus an hour, no matter the outcome here."

Jake's eyes were burning with outrage, and it was all Blaine could do not to laugh as he jumped off the bed and stalked out of his room, growling something unintelligible beneath his breath. He followed quickly after into the living room and sighed happily. Despite the weather, and the fact that he was up before noon on a Saturday, this was turning out to be a pretty good morning.

And maybe kicking Jake's ass in a few rounds with of zombie-killing might keep Blaine's mind off of the utterly beautiful, yet utterly unattainable, Kurt.

~ + ~ + ~ + ~

"You can fix this. _You can fix this_."

Kurt winced, at both the pathetic whine to his voice, and the slush that was slowly soaking into his brown leather boots. He didn't know first-hand, but he had heard that there were places in Montana where the snow would pile high, the air would chill to thirty, even forty below zero, and you would be a fool to walk outside with less that three layers of clothing. In Billings, however, winter weather seemed to operate a little differently.

Today, for instance, though it had been snowing heavily all morning, the air was a warm twenty-nine degrees, the ground was slick with half-melted snow, and, besides his feet, Kurt felt perfectly comfortable in his skinny jeans and a mid-thigh sweater, with fingerless gloves and a deep burgundy scarf around his neck. The chill was still enough that there was a distinct rosy glow to his cheeks as he walked back to his dorm, but there were worse things than looking like an elf at the North Pole.

He and Quinn had talked for an hour longer, discussing all his options, and he was still no closer to finding a solution to his problem than he had been when he first discovered it. Because, really, how did you explain that sort of thing? Most people probably wouldn't have referred to their best friend as their girlfriend in the first place. Of course, the circumstances were weird; his best friend also happened to be the mother of his child. But Kurt had never once used the term 'baby mama' and he wasn't about to start now. It was insulting, to him, and to Brittany, and just thinking the term made Kurt feel like white trash, and that was something he absolutely was not.

But what could he say, then?

"Sorry for the confusion, but I'm actually gay, so would you like to go out sometime?"

Um, no.

He shook his head and stamped his feet as he entered the dorm enclosure. Though it was still outside, and built somewhat like a motel with the entrances to each room all outside, the maintenance and groundskeeping staff did a very good job of keeping snow and ice off the paths, and Kurt didn't want to ruin their hard work. _Speaking of hard work_ , a little voice in his head began, but he shoved it aside, ignoring the thought that told him he should turn around and go back to the practice rooms as he had originally planned, but something told him that he wouldn't be able to focus much on the piano in this mindset. He had once told Finn that he had never missed a piano lesson, and even after Sunny had been born, he hadn't. Practicing was different from lessons, however, and while he felt guilty, he couldn't bring himself to turn around.

Especially not when he realized that the pulsing music he had heard as soon as he entered the compound was getting steadily louder the closer he got to his room, and was, it appeared, actually coming from his room.

"Thank god it's the weekend," he muttered, and fished his keys out of his pocket. He pushed open the door, and the sound got exponentially louder, and a small smile curved his lips as he recognized Carly Rae Jepsen on the stereo. "Britt, I know it's a Saturday, but--"

" _Before you came into my life I missed you so bad!_ "

" _I missed you so bad!_ "

" _I missed you so, so bad!_ "

Kurt could only stare at the scene before him. Their normally immaculate living area was covered in confetti, streamers hung from the ceiling, and a large cake was sitting on the coffee table, several pieces missing to reveal the marble coloring within the pink- and blue-frosted outside. There were several glasses on the table as well, plus a large bottle of what he saw, to his relief, was sparkling cider on the surface beside the cake. He dimly noted the large duffel near his feet, and the red purse with black hearts scattered across it, but what held his main attention was the three girls dancing around the room, and singing at the top of their lungs.

Brittany, still in pajamas with her hair in two ponytails and a wide grin across her face. Sunny, in that blue princess get-up he had made her for Halloween, with what he would have sworn was glitter on her face and hair. And lastly, in a pleated mini and blouse, hair curled and topped with a red beret, the glamorous and effervescent Rachel Berry.


	9. Chapter 9

Rachel had known what she wanted out of life since she was two. She was going to be a STAR, in capital letters, her name lighting up Broadway as she played in revivals of _Funny Girl, Evita, Oklahoma_ , and more, and nothing and no one was going to get in her way. And she was living her dream. She had survived high school, gotten past all the slushie facials and the heartaches, and was now at the school of her dreams, putting on a production in a role that she had always said was made for her, and not only that, she was getting married to the best thing that had ever happened to her.

_So what in God's name are you doing in Montana?_ a small voice asked her, but she ignored it to focus on the little girl in front of her.

Sunny was one of the reasons she had been able to talk herself into coming here. Aside from that fact that the beautiful child was her god-child, Rachel had instinctually known that the toddler would be a calming presence in her suddenly confused and out-of-joint life. If she just stuck by her, she knew there would be no questions about what she was doing, no trying to explain how she had come to such conclusions, and no need to be anything other than what she was. She knew, though, that the minute she let herself out of her presence, everything she was avoiding would come raining down upon her.

To say that her arrival that morning had been a surprise was a bit of an understatement. Brittany had been confused and then ecstatic upon seeing her, especially when she saw the cake that Rachel had picked up at the Albertson's bakery she stopped at just before getting there. Because cake equalled party in Brittany's dictionary, Rachel had found herself pulled into decorating, putting up streamers and tossing around confetti, and though it had been weird, it had also been exhilarating and fun, especially when Sunny had woken up from her mid-morning nap and joined them as they sang and danced around the living room.

Kurt's entrance had led to a calmer environment, the music turned down, and though he had hugged her and welcomed her warmly, there was a look in his eye that said they were going to talk asap, and she better be ready for it. As it was, he was still in whispered conversation with Brittany as he went around the living room taking down their celebratory decorations and bemoaning the fact that they would be cleaning up the glitter until they moved out.

"What do you mean, Britt? I can't keep up with you right now," she heard him say as she finished braiding Sunny's hair.

"There you are, princess. You look beautiful."

"Thank you, Aunt Rachel," she beamed at her as she turned around, and Rachel smiled back. Despite sharing Brittany's eyes and nose, there was still so much Kurt in her. Her smile was a mirror image of his, and though she still obviously had her baby fat, Rachel could tell that the little girl had inherited Kurt's regal bone structure and she carried herself the same way, also. Even in the few short hours she had been in her presence, Rachel could see some of Kurt's quirks matched in the toddler's, and she briefly wondered what she would be like when she grew up.

"She said she's here to stay for awhile," Brittany said, her whisper suited more for the stage than the private conversation that Kurt had likely meant it to be, but Rachel didn't mind hearing it, as she was worried about Kurt's reaction. "I told her to stay as long as she wanted. That was okay, right? She looks sad, Kurt."

Rachel's eyes widened briefly at the comment. She hadn't realized the blonde could see that, and she chastised herself for once again underestimating her old friend.

"Of course, Britt, but I don't think--"

"Can I try on your necklace, Aunt Rachel?"

She blinked at the question and refocused on those bright blue eyes beaming up at her. She glanced down at the gold star around her neck and smiled.

"Of course, princess. Gold stars are kind of my thing, you know," she added as she unclasped it and then hooked it around the little girl's neck. It was a lot longer on her than on Rachel, the star falling to mid-torso, and Sunny picked it up to frown contemplatingly at the simple charm.

"Can they be my thing, too? Daddy says we should always share," she added earnestly, and Rachel grinned.

"That's absolutely right, princess. And I would honored to share my gold stars with you."

The toddler squealed happily and jumped up and down, causing Rachel to laugh, and she almost missed Kurt asking, "Did she say why she was here?"

She went still then, and, if it wouldn't have alerted them to her eavesdropping, would have cautioned Brittany from responding, "She said her friend Lucy told her to come."

~ + ~ + ~ + ~

"Who's Lucy, Kurt? Was she in Glee club with us?"

Kurt tried to focus on Brittany's words, and forced a smile as he replied.

"Um, no, Brittany. She's just an...old friend of Rachel's. Do you mind cleaning the rest of this up while I talk to Rachel?"

Brittany nodded solemnly, and then looked sadly around the room.

"I liked the streamers, Kurt."

"Me, too, Britt," he said gently, smiling for real now as he patted her hand. "But it's kind of a mess. I'll send Sunny to help while I chat with Rachel, okay?"

"Can I turn the music back on?" she asked, hope lighting her eyes, and he grinned then.

"Of course, Britt. Just not too loud, okay? I need to hear myself think."

She nodded again, saying "I like hearing thoughts."

"Me, too," he replied and walked over to the kitchen area where Rachel was sitting with Sunny in her lap.

"Rachel."

"Kurt," she nodded, and he sighed before smiling down at his daughter.

"Hey, baby. Would you mind helping Mommy clean up the decorations while I talk with Aunt Rachel?"

He watched as she wrapped her mouth around the word 'decorations' and then she grinned and slid down from Rachel's lap.

"Okay, Daddy." She turned to face Rachel, and said, "Thanks for doing my hair, Aunt Rachel."

"You're very welcome, Sunny," she grinned down at her, and they both watched as the toddler ran over to her mother. "So I suppose you're wondering why I'm here," she said after a moment, and Kurt looked down at her.

"That's only one of many things, Rach," he sighed and pulled out a chair to sit across from her. One of the first things he had done when they moved in back in August was to troll the garage sales in town for a table and chair set. It didn't matter that their kitchen area was pitifully small, and that the heavy oak table made any kind of cooking a cramped affair; he refused to have supper in the living room like a bunch of dumb college kids. Though, he admitted that's what they were, but they didn't have to act like it. "So Lucy told you to come, huh?"

Rachel blushed prettily, and looked down at her hands, twining her fingers together nervously.

"I know you think I'm stupid--"

"Rachel," he cut her off, and put his hand on hers. "I am the last person to _ever_ call anyone stupid. You know that."

"Yeah..."

"But I am worried that you decided to take the advice of your imaginary friend."

Her gaze snapped up to meet him and she scowled.

"She's not my imaginary friend, Kurt."

"I'm pretty sure, Rach, that a person that only shows up in your dreams counts as imaginary."

She flushed again, and nodded, looking down again.

"I get that, Kurt, I do. But she's been there for so long, and I...I love her. And I trust her more than anything," she added when he started to protest, and Kurt shut his eyes a moment before she went on, "She's my best friend, next to you and Fi--next to you," she said again, flushing awkwardly, and Kurt shook his head.

"So why are you here?" She shrugged a little, and he sighed. "Rachel Barbra Berry." She winced at the full name as he continued, "You are a beautiful and, despite the fact that you follow a figment's advice, intelligent young lady, in your third year at one of the greatest performing arts schools in the country, playing the lead in a show that you adore, and you're engaged to one of the nicest guys in existence, barring a few misguided years in high school when he tossed yours truly in a dumpster on a weekly basis." She laughed a little at the description and he went on. "You have the world at your fingertips, and you can do anything you set yours sights on. So why are you here now? What could Lucy have possibly said to you to make you, with less than a month left in the semester, and until your show goes on, drop everything to come and see me and my family?"

She sighed, and eased one of her hands free to brush a dark strand behind her ear.

"I don't know, Kurt. I just felt...empty."

"Empty?"

"There was no spark. Nothing in my life that was interesting."

"Rachel. You're playing _Maureen_ in _RENT_. I think that's far beyond interesting."

"I know, I know. I just...I couldn't stay."

"So you drove to Montana."

"Well, technically, I took a train and two buses. And then I walked the last few blocks from the bakery."

"You _walked_. With an over-stuffed duffel bag and a cake."

She smiled and shrugged.

"I was feeling athletic."

"You're crazy, Rachel."

"I know. I just really needed to see my best gay."

He rolled his eyes at the term, and then asked, "Have you called Finn?" He noted her sudden stillness, and went on gently. "He's worried sick about you, you know. Keeps asking me if I'd heard from you."

"Kurt..."

"And you left without a note and everything."

"I can't--"

"Fine, fine," he cut her off, noting the stirrings of panic behind her beautiful brown eyes. " _I'll_ call him. Though before I do, I should ask, how long are you staying? He'll probably want to know when you're coming back."

She looked unaccountably nervous, and Kurt frowned trying to make sense of her attitude when it hit him.

"Oh. You're not going back, are you?" It was slow in coming, but she finally shook her head, and he sighed. "Oh, Rachel, sweetheart. Come here," he said, pulling her in for a hug, and she went into his arms immediately. He decided not to point out how insane she was being, or what an idiot she was for leaving school like that. And he refused completely to comment on the tears that were soaking into his vest. He simply settled for rubbing soothing circles on her back, and whispering gently, "It's going to be okay, Rach. I'm here for you. I love you. It's going to be okay."


	10. Chapter 10

The first few days of having Rachel Berry live under the same roof were not quite what Kurt had expected. Back when New York was still in the works, they had had it all planned out. They'd live in a hole-in-the-wall place close to school, in cramped quarters that, despite the cramped factor, were impeccably decorated by Kurt himself, with little to no input from Rachel --as he had explained to her constantly, he couldn't trust the taste of someone who's fashion leaned towards sweaters with animals on the front. They would fight over who got to use the shower first in the morning, but otherwise life would be perfect. They would do vocal warm-ups together, diet and exercise together, trade off on cooking and shopping, and always be in the front row of each other's performances.

Even after the Blessed Event, the only change in plans was that they would find a bigger apartment, and Brittany could join them in their activities while she earned her GED, since of course they would want her there right away and not want to wait for her to repeat her senior year. Though Brittany had admitted that Kurt was much more capable of taking care of their daughter, it had never for even a moment crossed his mind to break apart their family, even over the great experience that New York was sure to be. But New York never happened, not after discovering that even if Brittany achieved a 4.0 her second senior year, her average GPA would still be too low for any conventional scholarships that any decent New York establishment might offer, and so the idea, the place, and the living with Rachel situation was scrapped, and he never discovered if any of their living plans were realistic.

Thus far, the only thing that coincided was fighting over shower use. Though Rachel was usually a morning person, she had apparently decided that, amongst all the other normal Rachel-esque things she was giving up, her six am wake-up call was top of the list. While Brittany was out the door before the sun rose, Rachel, who had taken up residence in Kurt's room while he slept with Brittany and Sunny, lounged in bed until nine, which was around the time Kurt usually shuffled, bleary-eyed, to the bathroom to do his morning moisturizing routine before his ten o'clock class. He hadn't given much thought to Rachel's behavior when she acted thus on Sunday; weekends were made for sleeping in, if you asked him, and she could take all the time she wanted in the shower, as long as she was ready to go to brunch at noon.

"I know it's dinnertime, but Sunday dinner doesn't sound quite as sophisticated as Sunday brunch, you know?"

When she repeated the same behavior on Monday morning, however, Kurt nearly threw a fit. He had hoped that, after Brittany's recovery that weekend, that he would be able to go to class stress-free, and confident in the health and well-being of his girls. He ended up more stressed than ever, though, when he found himself with fifteen minutes to get ready, and he ended up skipping his moisturizing routine altogether, and running out the door, feeling a mess, just as Brittany bounded back in, looking as fresh as a daisy and beautiful as ever.

He knew he looked out of sorts, and had garnered more than his fair share of surprised and worried looks from the few classmates he allowed himself to be friendly with, and he wondered how he would have handled New York for four years when he wanted to kill Rachel after only a few days. Of course, with Finn following her, their time together probably would have lessened, but still. After all these years, shouldn't she be less annoying than she had been in high school?

When he had brought the subject up in their   
meeting, Quinn had only laughed and told him that he should be more flexible.

_"Your friend is obviously going through a hard time right now, Kurt, and she needs all the love and support you can give her."_

"I'll support her all right," he grumbled on Tuesday afternoon as he sat in the library and read through his notes for his chemistry class. After missing last week's lab, he had quite a bit of material to catch up on; they really did a lot in such a small period of time, and though still annoyed with her --Rachel had made them all tofu for supper the night before. _Tofu_!-- he had to admit he was also grateful, that she had offered to watch Sunny for awhile so he could go and study without interruption or worrying about her getting into trouble. As smart as she was, he was constantly reminded that she was still only three years old, and just as capable of hurting herself or swallowing something she shouldn't as any other child her age. And, if something did happen, Rachel would call. So he was thankful, grateful, whatever you wanted to call it, to Rachel, for finally giving him the chance to relax and just think about school and nothing else.

In theory, anyway. Kurt trusted Rachel with his life. Trusting her with his precious daughter was a different thing, entirely. It was only after she had yelled at him via text --this after he had sent fifteen messages himself, reminding her that Sunny was allergic to shellfish, or asking her to check that she didn't change clothes by herself and ruin the style he had set for her that day, or even just asking if the little girl had wondered where he was-- that he had managed to get some studying done. His phone never left his range of vision, however, and he sighed as he admitted that he wasn't progressing as much as he would have liked, especially considering the hour and fifteen minutes that he had been sitting in the library's designated study area.

"Maybe if you sang something, you'd study better?"

He went still a moment at the warm, teasing voice to his side, and then took a breath and smiled up at the young man standing next to him.

"Blaine. Hi. Are you studying, too?"

He found himself caught by how the green henley tee he wore brought out the ivy-green highlights in his hazel eyes. He could stare into them forever, he thought, and had to blink to focus on Blaine's response.

"Checking out a book, actually," he said and held up a blue hardcover with the title written in gold letters on the binding.

" _Il teatro di rosa_?" Kurt asked, raising a brow. "You speak Italian?"

"A little," he shrugged, and leaned against the table. Kurt gulped at the range of his lower half to Kurt's eyes, and he shook himself infetismally to try and dislodge the observation. "So, you should sing something," Blaine went on, and Kurt blinked.

"Um, what?"

"To study better. Some more of that _Next to Normal_ show would be good," he said thoughtfully, fingers tracing his jawline as he pondered, and Kurt found himself jealous of those fingers. "Or you could always try Def Leppard again," he added with a grin, and Kurt couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"I can understand how, considering our previous meetings, you might think I sing all the time, but I really don't. Laundry is an exception, not the rule."

"Well, that's a shame. You've got a great voice, Kurt."

He couldn't help but flush at the compliment, but shook his head.

"I'm out of practice."

"Couldn't tell by me. What are you studying?"

Kurt grimaced, and replied, "Chemistry." Blaine winced, and slid away, and Kurt laughed, while simultaneously missing the closeness. "Yeah. It's not that I don't enjoy it, but I just can't concentrate today. I keep waiting for my phone to ring," he admitted, and then blinked as Blaine's expression closed off just the slightest bit.

"Brittany?"

His eyes went wide, and he remembered how stupid he had been.

"Ah, no, actually--" How was he supposed to do this? He fished around for the words, and then found himself blurting, "Would you like to come over to my room?"

He couldn't say which of them were more surprised at the question, but Kurt fixed his expression into as natural a one as possible, smiling encouragingly even while Blaine gaped at him.

"Uh, are you sure? I mean, I--"

"Absolutely," Kurt nodded, something telling him that if he let him see everything, all their problems would be solved. Or at least the one where Blaine obviously thought he was straight. And after that? Well, Brittany was always telling him to just relax and let things happen, so that's what he was going to do.

If Blaine said yes, that is.

"I'm not getting much done here anyway," Kurt continued, casually beginning to pack up his bag. "Besides, it'd be nice to talk to you under non-laundry-emergency circumstances."

Blaine laughed at that, his eyes flashing, and Kurt stilled before realizing that Blaine was saying 'yes.'

"Sounds great. I'll just go check this out," he raised the book again, "and meet you at the door."

"Great," Kurt managed and watched as Blaine slid off the table and walked over to the front desk.

And then he realized.

Blaine was coming over.

_Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit._


	11. Chapter 11

Kurt thought he was doing a pretty good job of not freaking out as they walked from the library to the dorm enclosure. They had managed to keep up a rather engaging conversation about music and books, and he learned that Blaine had only just recently been introduced to Katy Perry.

"You've got to be kidding me," he laughed, and Blaine grinned. The sight caught him off-guard, despite the fact that it wasn't the first time to see it, and a small part of him wondered if he would be left breathless every time Blaine smiled or laughed or just _existed_.

"I swear, I'm not," Blaine replied, and Kurt struggled to focus. "What I'm about to tell you is strictly between us."

Kurt raised a brow as his conspiratorial look. "Do tell."

"I am a Disney addict."

Kurt choked on a laugh, and schooled his face to look normal, even serious.

"Is that so?"

"I know every single Disney song by heart."

"Uh-huh."

"And I learned how to play them on the piano and guitar."

"That's...impressive."

"I also have played them in public venues."

The grin broke through his serious façade and Kurt shook his head.

"Okay, now that's embarrassing."

"Oh, it gets worse," Blaine grinned in return. "When I explained to my mom my lack of conventional music knowledge, she sent me the soundtrack to every single musical, Broadway or West End or otherwise, ever released."

"Oh my god..."

"Yeah, you see my problem, then. So one of my roommates made me a bunch of mixes and I've spent the last week learning new stuff, which includes the lovely Katy Perry."

"And you had never been on YouTube before?"

A small flush rose beneath the brown leather jacket he had pulled on over his shirt, and Kurt stared at him a moment. What was with his reactions? Love at first sight was supposed to be romantic, right? Back in high school, Kurt had used to think the touch of the fingertips was as sexy as it got. In the years since then, though, he had realized that romantic ideal was kind of silly and certainly unrealistic. But aside from Brittany, he had only ever kissed one other person, a boy he had met at the community college in Ohio, who had ran as soon as he met Sunny. He wasn't exactly naïve, but he was definitely inexperienced, with boys, at least, and he didn't understand this rush of heat he got every time he looked at Blaine.

"I'll have you know I led a very sheltered youth," Blaine said after a moment. Kurt managed to tear his gaze away from him to swipe his student id over the entry port. The doors were rarely locked before sundown, but Kurt had learned to have his id ready just in case to save the time it would take him to fumble for it when the doors didn't open at his tug.

"So did you grow up in a monastery then?"

"Because monks are such big fans of Disney," Blaine replied, and they both laughed as they walked inside the compound.

"Of course. Friar Tuck, you know?" Kurt returned.

"Ah, yes. _Robin Hood_. But the real question is, would they have had me watching the one with the fox or the live one?"

Kurt paused at the fork in the path and looked over at the dark-haired boy in surprise.

"You weren't kidding about being an addict, were you? Most of my friends didn't know there was a live action version in the first place. It's one of my favorites, though. I used to watch it with my mom when I was a kid."

"It's great, isn't it?" Blaine asked, smiling and turning to the left when Kurt grabbed the arm of his jacket.

He wondered if his heart was beating as loud as he thought it was as he said, "Uh, I'm this way, Blaine."

"Oh, right. Sorry. Force of habit."

Kurt smiled and shook the feeling off as they continued to the right.

"No problem. So a monastery is out, then. Are you perhaps the victim of child kidnapping and all your captors had to watch was Disney films?"

Blaine laughed and shook his head.

"You have such a strange imagination, Kurt."

"You've only just heard of Katy Perry _now_ , Blaine. Tell me who's strange?"

He only grinned.

"It's not like I didn't get any outside musical influence. My high school choir made sure of that. It was just...limited."

"Extremely limited, I'll say," Kurt returned as they stopped just before his door. "Well, here we are. Home sweet home." Kurt winced at his voice cracked on the last word, but simply pushed the door open and held it for Blaine.

"You don't lock your door?"

He didn't sound judgmental, only curious, but the question added to the sudden barrage of nerves that was overcoming Kurt.

"Well, normally, yes. But I--"

" _See that pretty girl in that mirror there? Who can that attractive girl be?_ "

Kurt shut his eyes and laughed, and he didn't see the strange look that crossed Blaine's face as he asked, "So your girlfriend likes to sing, too?"

His eyes shot open, and he shook his head vehemently.

"Oh, no. That's Rachel. Though Brittany sings, too, but she's not--"

"Daddy!"

Kurt turned automatically at the excited cry and knelt down to snatch the little girl up into his arms.

"Hi, baby. Did you miss me?"

"Daddy, daddy! Aunt Rachel painted my nails for me!" She held up her hands to show off the sparkly pink polish and Kurt looked at them with a critical eye before grinning and pressing a kiss to her fingertips. He knew it wasn't just some silly thing, getting them painted like that. Nail polish had quickly become one of the frilly things that he and Brittany had agreed to stop buying--he often reminisced on the good old days when they gave each other manicures almost daily, with the occasional pedicure thrown in for kicks. They had one bottle in the house, a pretty blue that exactly matched his girls' eyes, and it was only on special occasions that they were allowed to wear it. Rachel had obviously broken out her own stash for the occasion, whatever it was, and Kurt left a mental note for himself to thank her for it.

"They're fabulous, baby. I see she also did something new with your hair," he said, taking in the crimped style.

"Do you like it?"

"Of course, baby. You look beautiful."

She grinned up at him and then her blue-eyed gaze drifted past him and a sligth frown creased her brow. "Daddy, who's that man?"

He stilled before hefting her up higher on his hip as he stood and turned back to face the boy he had momentarily forgotten.

"Sorry, Blaine, I didn't mean to be rude. Baby, this is Daddy's friend, Blaine. Blaine, this is my daughter, Sunny."

He saw him mouth the word 'daughter' as Sunny began cheerily, "Hello, Blaine. I'm three. How old are you?"

He laughed and smiled in return, but there was a dullness in his eyes that hadn't been there before, and Kurt cursed himself internally as he realized how Sunny's presence had cemented his sexuality in Blaine's mind. It was unavoidable, of course, and Kurt would never even dream to deny her existence, but it certainly made things difficult in this type of situation. A small voice told him that Blaine's reaction was proof that he liked him, and it thrilled him to think so, but what did that matter if he wouldn't act on it?

"Hi, Sunny. I'm twenty, but I'll be twenty-one in a few weeks."

Kurt raised a brow in surprise. He hadn't realized the man was younger than him; love of all things Disney aside, there was a sense of maturity and wisdom about him that he simply assumed he was older, or at the very least the same age.

"Are you having a birthday party? You should let my mommy help you decorate. She's good at that."

Kurt winced and shook his head. "Baby, I don't think Blaine would want glitter all over his room."

"But it's so _pretty_ , Daddy!"

"I know, baby, but--"

"Kurt?"

He turned as Rachel entered the room, and his eyes widened at the sight. Clearly Sunny had not been the only one to receive a makeover. Gone were her standard pleated skirt and blouse, and were replaced with hot pink yoga pants that were a hair too tight and a white cropped top slanted across her shoulders, beneath which a turquoise and black sports bra was visible. Her hair was pulled into a kinky, messy updo and her eyes were painted dramatically, and Kurt interrupted her "I thought I heard you out here" with "What in god's name are you wearing, Rachel? And why?"

"Brittany and I are going to a belly-dancing class."

"And, what, you're trying to seduce the instructor?"

She glared at him a moment before sighing.

"It's the makeup, isn't it? It's too sexy, I _told_ Brittany I was fine without it, but she insisted I needed a change, not that dragging me to this class isn't change enough, and _I told her_ \--"

"Whoa, there, Rach," Kurt cut her off, putting Sunny down to pull the suspiciously bright-eyed diva into his arms. "Calm down. You look great. I was just surprised, is all. You haven't looked this hot since I made you up as Sandy from _Grease_."

She gave a watery laugh and hugged him tighter a moment before asking, "Who's your friend, Kurt?"

He winced and stepped back to gaze sheepishly at Blaine.

"I'm really not trying to be rude to you, Blaine, I swear. It's just--"

"Should I take a raincheck? It's obviously a little crazy here."

" _NO_!" Kurt shouted immediately and then winced. "Sorry. No, I want you to stay. Please."

The boy nodded slowly and Kurt sighed in relief. If things could just calm down for a moment, he could fix all these misconceptions his words and actions had given rise to. He reached back for Rachel's hand and began introductions.

"Rachel, this is Blaine Anderson. He's a Disney and Broadway addict." Blaine laughed as he held out his hand and Kurt continued. "Blaine, this is my best friend and future Broadway star, Rachel--"

"Oh my god. You're Rachel Berry."

Kurt paused and looked over to see Blaine gaping at Rachel as if she were a movie star or something.

Predictably, Rachel preened and said, "I see my name has made it west of the Mississippi, even. See, Kurt? I have fans _everywhere_."

Kurt rolled his eyes when Blaine chuckled.

"Um, well, I don't know how many others 'west of the Mississippi,' as you say, know you. But I heard you sing at the national show choir championship in Chicago my junior year, and I saw you in _West Side Story_ before that."

"You're kidding," she said, beaming. "But whatever were you doing in Lima, Ohio?"

"I'm from Westerville, actually. I went to Dalton Academy, and--"

"Oh my god, you're the Warbler Prince!"

"Excuse me?" Blaine turned his gaze to Kurt's, clearly wondering about Rachel's level of sanity, but Kurt was blushing, and could only shake his head.

"Rachel, stop. There's no way that Blaine is--"

"But yes," Rachel cut him off, and started walking around Blaine, perusing his person as if comparing to something only she could see. "His hair might not be slicked back, but I'm almost positive it's him. The skin tone is a bit off, but that's probably just the stage lighting."

"Or the fact that it's _November_ and it's _cold outside_ and _nobody's_ skin tone looks normal with all that inside time."

"Or it's November," she conceeded, and then went on, "The way he wears his jacket is that same too."

"The way he--good grief, Rachel, you can't seriously--"

"Come on, Kurt, just picture him in a uniform!"

Though he tried to push the thought away, he found himself picturing it quite clearly, the way the collar would lie against Blaine's throat, and how the cuff-links would match and--

"Oh my god, it _is_ you."

"Um, Kurt? Fill me in? I'm so lost."

Instead of answering him, Kurt smiled down at Sunny and asked, "Are you hungry, baby? How about I make us some supper?"

Rachel laughed, the look on her face full of mischief at the obvious subject change.

"Well," she began, taking Blaine's arm and leading him over to the sofa, "It all started when the boys in our glee club sent a young, sweet boy to spy on our competition for sectionals."

"I feel like steak tonight. What do you think, baby?"

"The sweet, innocent boy went all out on his mission, even going so far as to hand-sew a replica of the distinct blue blazer with red piping that the young men of our rival glee club all wore."

"And definitely something dairy on the side," Kurt added loudly, hoping that the vegan girl would lose her focus, but she kept right on going.

"His infiltration of the fancy preparatory institution was flawless."

"Maybe some cheesecake, does that sound good, baby?"

Sunny looked half confused by his tone and half excited by the mention of what was her favorite dessert, and though Rachel flicked a glance in his direction, she felt no inclination to stop.

"What our beautiful young spy did not anticipate, however, was that his heart would be captured by--"

" _RACHEL_!"

She finally paused in her story and looked at him literally seething in frustration, and she opened her mouth to retort only to be stopped by Brittany's entrance.

"Kurt, why are you yelling at Rachel?"

They all turned as one to face her and Kurt gaped while Sunny said, "Wow, Mommy, you look pretty."

Kurt blinked down at her and said slowly, "I wouldn't quite say 'pretty,' baby."

He couldn't deny that Brittany was beautiful; she always was, and even a gay man could appreciate beauty. However, she had chosen an interesting way to emphasize that beauty this afternoon. Her skin quite literally sparkled, from the glitter she had smoothed all over it. The day he had walked into her room to find her mixing the silvery stuff into her body lotion had been an interesting one, to say the least. There was not an inch of skin not visible, though, in her current state of dress--or undress, to be more specific. She was wearing a pair of blue spandex shorts that would give daisy dukes a run for their money in a revealing-skin contest. Like Rachel, she too had a dual-toned sports bra on, hers in pink and a blue to match her shorts, but unlike Rachel, she had apparently decided to forgo the covering top. Her lips were painted a bright pink, and there was even more glitter on her eyes and cheeks, but despite the shades of Ke$ha, she looked classy rather than trashy. As a final touch, her hair was curled in such a way as to make her appear both sophisticated and like she had just rolled out of bed--with someone else.

If he had liked girls, Kurt was sure he would have had an instant hard-on at the sight of her. As it was, he found himself caught between horror and fascination as he took in the crazily beautiful picture she created.

"I take it back, Rachel. _Brittany_ is seducing the belly-dancing instructor, not you."

The blonde looked confused for a moment before smiling widely and rushing up to grab Rachel's hand.

"It's time to go, Rachel. Are you excited?"

Rachel sighed but her smile was genuine as she replied, "You know, I think I actually am, Brittany."

"Yay! Let's go, then--"

"Ah, Britt," Kurt cut in. "Can you hold on a minute? I'd like you to meet someone."

"Oh?" She turned curious eyes to take in Kurt and the boy who had stood from the sofa at her entrance.

"Brittany, this is my friend Blaine. Blaine, this is Brittany, my--" He cut himself off when he realized what that he was about to call her his girlfriend, and he glanced to see the half-shuttered expression on Blaine's face. _Idiot_ , he thought and floudered for a word that would be both accurate and inoffensive in describing their relationship when Brittany spoke.

"Hi, Blaine. I like your curls."

Blaine laughed, the surprise breaking him out of whatever he had been thinking concerning the word Kurt had left unsaid and he grinned.

"Thanks. I like yours, too."

"Is he a dolphin, too, Kurt?" she asked him and Kurt winced.

"Britt--"

"Oh, Rachel, we're running late!" she cried suddenly and started pulling Rachel toward the door before suddenly stopping and bending to gather Sunny into her arms. "I miss you already, baby mine. If Kurt tells me you were good, I'll teach you some new dance moves when I get back."

The toddler's eyes sparkled with delight and Kurt groaned.

"Britt, I think she's a little young for belly-dancing..."

Brittany only smiled up at him as she released their daughter, and with a quick "Love you both, see you later!" she and Rachel were out the door.

The silence was almost deafening after their exit, only to be broken by Sunny's question, "Daddy, can we play music for making the cheesecake?"

He was about to say he had been kidding about making it when he realized that, even as smart as she was, a three-year-old would probably not understand the threat he had been making, and he only nodded.

"Of course, baby. Why don't you go pick out one of Daddy's cds and we'll get started?"

"Okay," she smiled up at him before running off and he turned to face Blaine again.

"So. That's my family," he shrugged. "Well, as I said before, Rachel is one of my best friends, and she's just visiting, but...yeah."

He felt awkward, especially at the contemplative look Blaine was giving him, those beautiful hazel eyes seeming to pierce him all the way to his soul and he found himself dreading what he might say. And then found himself oddly surprised at the question he asked.

"What did Brittany mean?"

"Huh?"

"The dolphin comment."

Kurt gave a soft laugh and shook his head fondly. "Brittany thinks that dolphins are just gay sharks."

Blaine blinked and then grinned. "That's kind of epic. And wow, she must have great gay-dar because I am so not projecting today," he added as he gestured to his outfit, and Kurt grinned right back. Though he had pretty much known it from the beginning--awful as it may be sometimes, he knew the world wouldn't be so cruel as to make him fall for _another_ straight guy--it sent a thrill through him to have Blaine confirm his sexuality out loud. The thrill faded, though when Blaine frowned.

"What is it?"

"She said 'too.'"

"What?"

"Brittany. She asked if I'm a dolphin, _too_. What did she mean by that, Kurt?"

"Oh, well." Kurt would have to thank Brittany when she got back, he thought. Maybe he would go out and buy her some soda, or a bag of those Starburst candies she loved. With her sweet, silly innocence, she had given him the perfect opportunity to say to Blaine, "I'm gay."


	12. Chapter 12

Kurt had just dropped a bomb on him. A wonderful, exciting, thrill-me type bomb. Blaine was caught between shouting from the rooftops or catching Kurt up in a kiss. Both would help to release the tension that had been building up inside him since they met, though he thought the latter would be more beneficial to his person, anyway. He had taken a step forward to do just that when a high, chirpy voice interrupted his train of thought.

"Daddy, Daddy, can we listen to _Wicked_ again?"

That's right; he had forgotten about Sunny. Kurt's daughter. And gay or not, there was no doubt she was his biologically, as he took in the bone structure and the dimple and oh, god, what had he gotten himself into?

"Of course, baby. That's perfect," Kurt replied to her and ruffled her blonde hair that she had obviously inherited from Brittany, and Blaine grimaced. This was starting to give him a headache.

"Would you like to help, Blaine?"

He blinked as he realized Kurt was talking to him and then nodded slowly. Confusion aside, he couldn't pull himself away from the beautiful boy and he followed him into the kitchen area. It was small, and the heavy oak table in the center didn't help the situation, but rather than feeling cramped, it was more cozy, and Blaine smiled as the toddler pulled one of the heavy chairs over to the countertop and opened the CD player to put in the Broadway soundtrack. The first strands of No One Mourns the Wicked floated over the room, and Blaine watched as Kurt began rummaging through drawers and cupboards to find all the utensils and ingredients he would need.

"Blaine, would you mind pulling the soy milk out of the fridge? Oh, and there should be some tofu on the upper left, in the back," he added as Blaine opened the old fridge.

"You don't use cream cheese?" he asked curiously, and Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Normally, yes, but Rachel is a vegan, so..." he shrugged, and started crushing up the graham crackers that Sunny had handed him.

"Oh? That's awful nice of you. Especially considering it sounded like you were threatening to make the real thing back there," he added with a grin and Kurt flushed.

"Yeah, well, I'm not that mean..."

"So the Warbler Prince, huh?"

He winced and said, "Please, forget she said anything about that."

"I don't know," Blaine said thoughtfully, placing the milk and tofu on the counter near Kurt. "It sounded pretty interesting. I don't think I've ever been called a 'prince' before."

He knew he was being a little bit mean, but he found himself quite enjoying all the colors that crossed Kurt's porcelain skin. And he hadn't lied about never being called a prince, though his brother had called him 'princess' on at least two occasions.

"I like princes!" Sunny said, and he glanced down at her, smiling, though her presence turned his mind in another direction.

"I think I'm more interested, though, in how you managed to have a three-year-old daughter at such a young age. Especially since you're, ah, well..."

"Since I'm gay?" Kurt asked, raising a brow, but he was smiling, so Blaine knew he hadn't taken offense, and he nodded.

"Yeah. I'm also a bit confused about Brittany." An awkward look passed his face and Blaine winced. He was coming on too strong, he realized, and he needed to ease up. "Sorry. You don't have to explain. I'm just--"

"No, no, it's fine. It's obviously a weird situation no matter how you look at it."

"Well, yeah. I mean, you're gay, a freshman in college, with a three-year-old, and living with--" Kurt's laughter caught him off-guard and he frowned.

"Um, sorry, did I say something funny?"

"I'm not a freshman, Blaine," he said between laughs, a grin spread wide on his face as he added, "Though I do thank you for thinking I'm that young. Sometimes I worry the stress is making me look older than I am."

"You're not--oh. I'm sorry, I just assumed, since I'd never seen you on campus before this semester."

"I transferred," he explained. "Brittany needed to repeat her senior year, so I just took some community college classes, and then she took a year off before we all came out here."

"Wait. So you're my age?"

"Older," he grinned. "I turned twenty-one in May."

"You're shi--kidding me," he amended at the suddenly severe look on Kurt's face as he glanced toward Sunny, and he blushed. "Sorry. But seriously, you must get carded all the time."

"On the rare occasion that I drink," he shrugged and turned back to the graham cracker mixture, pouring in some olive oil before mixing it all together.

"Don't graham crackers have honey in them? That doesn't strike me as vegan," Blaine began.

"Rachel won't mind. It's minimal, and she's not a perfectionist. Just as long as I don't put butter in here, she will forgive me and herself for any infractions."

"She sounds pretty interesting."

"I'm sure after meeting her that's not a surprise," Kurt said drily, and smiled as Sunny started belting out the words to _The Wizard and I_.

" _When I meet the Wizard  
Once I prove my worth  
And then I meet the Wizard  
What I've waited for since: since birth!_ "

"Geez, she's got a set of pipes on her," Blaine laughed in surprise, and Kurt grinned over at him. "You sure she's only three?"

"Three years, six months and...six days," he said, and then blushed at the look Blaine gave him. "So I keep track. Sue me, already."

"No, no," he rushed to reassure him. "That's really sweet that you know that off the top of your head."

"Well, five seconds off the top, but sure, I'll take it."

"Still, that's impressive," he said as the little girl began dancing around the room. "The vocabulary and the tone...and she's a pretty good dancer, too."

"Gets that from Brittany," Kurt nodded, setting the finished graham cracker crust aside to work on the cake part of the cheesecake. "Not that I'm too shabby on the floor myself, but Britt, she's been dancing since birth, I suspect. Gymnastics, ballet, tap, jazz, and then being a cheerleader on top of that, well. Let's just say I pale in comparison."

"Oh, I'm sure that's not true," Blaine smiled and they both went still at the obvious flirtatious tone behind his words, and he looked down at his hands. "Ah, is there anything I can, um, help with?"

"You can turn the oven on," he returned after a moment. "I always seem to skip that step and then I'm stuck waiting for it to pre-heat after I've mixed and poured and such. 350 degrees, if you please."

"I'm surprised you cook it," Blaine said casually. "I mean, cooling it must be a pain, if you want to enjoy it that day."

Kurt shrugged, and admitted, "I stick it in the freezer for about two and a half hours and that does the trick. Plus it gives us time to digest supper and rest a little before dessert."

"That is curiously logical, especially considering I'm the type to eat dessert first."

"Ah, yes. Life's too short, right?"

"Nah, I'm just obnoxious like that."

Kurt snorted out a laugh and then slapped a hand to his mouth, and Blaine grinned as he turned bright red. There was so much he could have said, but he settled for pulling out a chair and listening to Sunny sing as Kurt obviously struggled to retain his cool, calm demeanor as he poured the cake mixture into the graham cracker crust.

" _And I'll stand there with the Wizard  
Feeling things I've never felt  
And though I'd never show it  
I'll be so happy, I could melt!_ "

She paused in her singing to ask, "Daddy, why would she melt if she was happy?"

"It's just an expression, baby. She won't actually melt."

"Oh. Okay."

Blaine watched as she nodded, and continued her twirling dance around the kitchen and living area, and he couldn't help but smile.

"She's pretty cute."

"I'd like to think so," Kurt said, and looked at the oven, apparently trying to decide if it had heated for long enough before shrugging and opening the door to slide the pan in. "I honestly don't know what I'd do without her," he admitted, sitting across from Blaine and resting his cheek on his hand as he watched his daughter, a small smile crossing his lips, and Blaine wondered if he had ever seen anyone look that happy, that content, and decided that he probably hadn't.

"Yeah, I can see she's pretty special." He paused, and then asked, "How did she happen?"

Kurt was quiet for a moment, and Blaine wondered if he should have waited to ask, and yet, how could he not? There were so many things about Kurt that, now that he'd said it out loud, he could honestly see as the flashing lights they were, pointing to his admitted sexuality. It was almost funny that he had believed him to be straight in the first place, no matter what words he might have said. Except then, there was Sunny, and she was pointing in the complete opposite direction.

"Brittany is my best friend," Kurt began slowly, and Blaine felt himself relax. "When I was fifteen, I had a little bit of a crisis, and we dated for about a week."

"Like an identity crisis?"

"No," he shook his head right off. "I knew exactly who I was. What I didn't know was how much my dad loved me for being just that. He had started dating this woman, and she had a son my age, and Finn loves football and cars and girls and...I got jealous," he laughed a little at the statement and Blaine leaned forward. He was surprised Kurt was going this in-depth, but he didn't speak for fear of him cutting himself short, and he wanted to know everything, not just about Brittany and Sunny, but about Kurt. "I decided I could pretend to be straight, and I could love Mellencamp--"

"I _love_ Mellencamp," Blaine said without thinking and then flushed as Kurt rolled his eyes, but thankfully his comment didn't appear to deter him.

"I wore flannel for probably the first time ever," he went on, shuddering a little, which made Blaine grin, "and I picked an easy mark to be my girlfriend."

"Which would be Brittany?" he asked hesitantly, and Kurt nodded.

"Which would be Brittany," he replied. "She was popular, a cheerleader, and sweet enough to believe that I was straight."

"But you only went out for a week."

"Only a week," he agreed. "I couldn't do it. Instead of making my dad happy, I only made him worry, and I made myself angry that I had to try that hard, and, well...I couldn't do it," he said again, sighing. "So I broke up with Brittany, started wearing scarves again, and have never sung a Mellencamp song since."

Blaine laughed at that, and Kurt grinned at him, making his heart hiccup a little.

"Ah, so," Blaine coughed a little, trying to calm himself, "I take it Brittany came by a few weeks later, and--"

"No. We didn't do anything more than kiss then."

"Oh."

"But Brittany, she was great. And I didn't have many friends, in or out of glee club, which we both were in, and so we somehow ended up latching onto each other, and became best friends."

"I thought Rachel...?"

"I love Rachel," he nodded at the unspoken question. "But we weren't really friends until our senior year. I couldn't stand her before then. We fought over too many solos."

Blaine grinned at that, just imagining the two having diva-offs. Though it had been a few years since he had heard Rachel sing, he still remembered how good she was, and with his recent private concerts from Kurt in the laundry room, he knew they could go toe to toe and come out even.

"So if not then, how--"

"Summer before junior year, Brittany had a bad break-up," he began again, and Blaine went still at the sudden sadness in his tone. "Brittany is special; I'm sure you could tell even from just that short introduction. So she usually doesn't get into anything serious. Except this kid was, well...understanding, I suppose is the word I would use. Until he wasn't, and Brittany showed up crying, and I couldn't turn her away, and..."

"So you guys..."

Kurt pushed his hand through his hair, the gesture full of nerves, and sighed.

"She wanted more than just a shoulder to cry on."

"And you gave it to her." He paused and then asked, "So you're bi?"

Kurt laughed out loud, the sound sharp and clear, and Blaine blinked in surprise.

"Oh, no. Definitely not. I am of the firm belief that 'bisexual' is a term that gay guys in high school use when they want to hold hands with girls and feel like a normal person for a change." Blaine winced a little at how harsh that sounded, but didn't interrupt as he went on. "But Brittany, she...well, let's just say, in an effort to help her, I may have made use of a fake id."

"You were drunk?"

Kurt rolled his eyes, and said, "I prefer the term 'inebriated.'"

"And the people who sold you the alcohol, they didn't think anything of your id? I mean, come on, Kurt, you have to know how young you looked."

"At sixteen? I looked twelve," he laughed. "But I actually sent my brother out. He's a giant, and I doubt he even needed his id."

"So your brother bought you and your best friend alcohol and then you slept together."

"That about sums it up," he shrugged.

Blaine wasn't sure if he was repulsed or intrigued by the story, and he turned his gaze back to Sunny.

"So nine months later, then..."

"Eight months and fourteen days." Blaine shot him a glance and he flushed a little. "So I'm a little anal with numbers, I know. But she was sixteen days early, born just weeks before the end of my junior year."

"And it didn't occur to you to give her up for adoption or something?"

He flinched at the glare Kurt leveled at him and raised his hands in a show of surrender or something, he didn't know.

"I'm not saying you had to. Just, you were both so young. I mean, what did you parents think of this?"

"My dad was super-supportive. When I decided we would keep her, that was it. No arguments."

"And Brittany's parents?"

"Brittany was living with us by then," Kurt shrugged, and Blaine knew there was something big there he was leaving out. "She trusted my judgement."

"And now you have a three-year-old."

"And now I have a three-year-old," Kurt returned, and the grin on his face left Blaine breathless for a moment. He wanted to ask more, but Sunny bounded over to the table and pulled Kurt up just as _Dancing Through Life_ started.

"Daddy, Daddy, you have to sing this one!"

Kurt grinned wider, and then glanced back toward Blaine and held out his other hand to him.

"Care to join us?" he asked, and Blaine swallowed before grinning in return.

How could he refuse?


	13. Chapter 13

Blaine was pretty sure that this had been the best night of his life.

It had also been the weirdest.

After their little _Wicked_ trio, Blaine had found himself caught up in a full-on re-enactment of the show, interrupted only to take the cheesecake out of the oven and to start on the main course. Sunny had insisted on playing Galinda, which left Kurt to play Elphaba and Blaine found himself as Fiero, which, he told himself, wasn't awkward at all, and it hadn't been, on the outside, but he had been freaking out inside the entire time. And then to find himself pulled into a family dinner once Rachel and Brittany returned, and Blaine couldn't keep up with the chatter, and the jokes, and the sight of Kurt sharing his food with his daughter across from him had left him breathless for half the night.

He couldn't deny that Kurt having a child had thrown him for a loop. It had shattered him, to be honest, when the tiny blonde had run up to Kurt and the two embraced, and it had taken all his self-control not to bolt at the sight. He had already been feeling a bit ridiculous with the crush on the guy who ran out on a conversation because of his girlfriend, and Sunny had pretty much been the stick to break the camel's back. Except Kurt had practically begged him to stay, and Blaine had always been something of a masochist, is he was honest, so he had stayed.

And learned that, despite all appearances, he and Kurt were a lot more alike than he had thought.

Except he had a _kid_.

Was he over-thinking this? he wondered and fell back onto his bed in self-disgust. His brother had always told him that he thought too much.

Blaine blinked and reached to the bedside table for his phone and pressed speed-dial one.

And then laughed at the ringback tone.

" _I'm the greatest star, I am by far, but no one knows it--_ "

"You're reached McDreamy, how can I help you?"

He grinned at the familiar, cocky voice, and said, "Cooper, I know you have caller id. Why do you answer your phone like that to your little brother?"

"I answered that way _because_ it's you, Squirt."

"Don't call me that."

"Grow a few inches and I'll think about it."

Blaine rolled his eyes rather than argue further with his brother, as he knew he could go on forever and ever if he let him.

"How's it going, Coop?"

"Not bad. I had an audition for a new Spielberg script yesterday."

"No kidding? How'd that go?"

"Amazing, of course. Remember who you're talking to, Blainey."

"Yeah, yeah," he sighed, smiling without really wanting to. There was just something about his big brother that always seemed to make him feel better, even when he was being obnoxious like now. "So what's the script about?"

"Ah, that's top-secret intel, little brother."

"Of course."

"So what's the occasion, Blaine? You never call on school nights," he teased. "Something big happen?"

It took a millisecond for him to realize that he hadn't planned out what he was going to say, and another millisecond for him to blurt out, "Kurt's gay."

He flinched then and pulled at his hair in frustration. Although Cooper _did_ make him feel better, he also tended to make him lose any sort of filter.

"Who?" He started to repeat himself when Cooper started talking over him, "Wait a minute, this is the laundry singer?"

"Don't call him that."

"It _is_ ," Cooper crowed and Blaine groaned. He _really_ needed to have a script before he talked to his big brother.

"Coop..."

"So the beautiful songstress is gay, huh?"

"Geez. His name is _Kurt_ , okay? Just Kurt."

"Okay, okay," Cooper laughed. "So, is this call to tell me you're dating, then? Or did you move past that and you're engaged? Obviously I expect to be best man at the big event--"

"Cooper, no," Blaine laughed, shaking his head. "Just...no."

"Okay, fine, that's too soon. so you're just dating then."

"Um, no."

There was a moment of silence, and then "Well, fuck, Blainey, why not?"

He winced a little, before saying, "It's complicated."

"Complicated how? Wait, this is about the girlfriend you mentioned last time, right? So what, is he not out of the closet, then?"

"No, no. I mean, yes it's kind of about Brittany, but no, he is definitely out of the closet."

"So what's up, then?"

"Do you think I'd be a good father?"

Blaine slapped his hand across his mouth, but the damage was done. _Why_ had he said that?

"Um, Blainey, something you need to tell me?"

It took him a minute to figure out what Cooper meant, and then he laughed.

"Oh, Coop, no. I am so gay. Just...wow, you really think--?"

"Okay, no, you're right, that's ridiculous. I just thought for a minute you had been experimenting or...something."

"Experimenting? Wow, Coop. You're ridiculous."

"I'm _amazing_ ," he countered and Blaine rolled his eyes. "So why the good father question?"

Blaine could feel himself blushing, and he hesitated before saying, "Kurt's got a kid."

"Whoa."

"Uh, yeah."

"I think that's more than just complicated, Blaine."

"I know," he groaned and turned onto his side. "And he's living with Brittany, she's the mother. But I just...I don't..."

"Blaine, this is really serious. You can't just jump into this kind of relationship. A guy with a kid is not going to be looking for a little fling."

"Maybe I don't want a fling," he muttered, and then blinked. What?

"What?"

"Um, well..." He laughed a little, and admitted, "I really like him, Coop. I mean, I swear, I thought my heart stopped when I first saw him."

"Don't remind me. That was the longest, most pointless conversation we've ever had."

"It wasn't pointless!"

"'Oh, Coop, his eyes! They were the color of the ocean! No, not the ocean, the sky! No, not the sky, they were--'"

"You can shut up now," Blaine cut him off, flushing as he remembered how he had tried to describe those beautiful eyes but failed spectacularly. "The point is, Coop, that I felt an almost instant connection. And I really like him. And Sunny, too."

"Sunny?"

"His daughter."

"A little girl, huh?"

"Yeah. She's three and a half, and she's amazing. She can sing all the lyrics to _Wicked_ and she dances and--"

"Okay, hold up. Just how old is this Kurt anyway?"

"Twenty-one. He had her in high school."

"Ah. Identity crisis?"

Blaine couldn't help a laugh as his own earlier question to Kurt was repeated by his brother, and he sighed.

"No, just a drunken mistake." He could hear his brother tutting on the other end, and he sighed again. "Don't do that, Coop. Just because you've got eight years on me doesn't mean I don't remember all those illicit parties you had back in high school. Or how many times you freaked out when you thought you'd gotten a girl pregnant."

"Please. Cooper Anderson does not freak out," he scoffed, and Blaine grinned.

"Yeah, well, unlike you, Kurt wasn't so lucky, and so we have Sunny."

"And you want to have her, too, huh?"

He flushed at the implications but nodded, before remembering he was on the phone and he cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do, Coop. Only..."

"Only?"

"I don't know how. I mean," he went on before Cooper could ask what he meant, "I don't know how to go about courting him."

He didn't know what he expected, but it certainly wasn't the loud burst of laughter he got. Blaine held the phone back from his ear and frowned.

"Uh, Coop?"

"Oh, little brother. You are priceless. Nobody 'courts' anybody these days."

"Well, maybe they should," he argued, but he added, "So help me do whatever it is people do these days."

"Oh, Blainey. I've been waiting so long for you to ask me for help in your love life."

"Cooper, help me or shut up," he warned, and Cooper laughed.

"Okay, sorry. I'll be serious."

"Like that's even possible," Blaine muttered, and then focused as Cooper began to talk in earnest.


	14. Chapter 14

Kurt felt like he was stuck on replay from Tuesday.

Rachel had offered to watch Sunny once again so he could study in peace, and he was sitting at the library, going through notes on his next reading assignment for Professor Evans, and he was waiting for his phone to ring.

Begging for it, actually.

Not because he wanted out of his homework, no, and it wasn't even Sunny that he was worried about today.

It was Blaine.

Despite the awkward beginning to their afternoon, the rest of it and the evening following had turned out pretty good. Blaine had proved himself a masterful singer as he took on the role of Fiero during their _Wicked_ reenactment, an image which still gave him a little thrill, and not only that, he had been great with Sunny. And she had seemed to love him, and though there was a voice telling him he should be more careful, more cautious, he had shaken it off to bask in the glow of contentment he felt at including Blaine in his little family. It had been pretty close to perfect, and even when Rachel and Brittany had returned from their belly-dancing class, the other boy hadn't even flinched at the addition to the chaos. He had fawned over Rachel, asking for stories of other performances and NYADA, and he had somehow managed to hold an intelligent conversation with Brittany, all while holding a bouncing four-year-old on his lap as they sat around the dinner table.

The evening had turned out, in a word, perfect.

Except it had been three days since he had heard from Blaine, and Kurt was caught between wondering if he had somehow written his number down wrong, or if he had scared the boy and ran him off.

"Don't be such a pessimist," he told himself, but he felt a hint of misgiving creep up his spine.

There had been a boy back at the community college in Ohio, a brief flirtation that had culminated in two dates that had made Kurt think that maybe being stuck in in homophobe-central wasn't the end of the world. He'd been on cloud nine for those few days, until a call from Brittany, worried over what turned out to be Sunny's first teething, had interrupted an almost-kiss. He had apologized, though he couldn't help a smile as he explained the situation, until the word daughter had left his lips, and the smile followed shortly as the boy shut down and said he would 'see him around.' They hadn't spoken since, and Kurt had decided that he would wait until Sunny was older before he would try something of the romantic nature again.

_So what was so special about Blaine, then?_ that small, snide voice in the back of his mind asked, and he rolled his eyes.

He had been asking himself the same question since he had decided to let Blaine meet his family, and he still hadn't found an answer.

His ponderings were interrupted by the phone buzzing, and a wide smile crossed his lips as he reached for it, the word _Finally_ crossing his mind before he realized that it wasn't Blaine's number crossing the screen, but an unknown instead. It was a 406-number, so he knew it was local, but he couldn't fathom why anyone he didn't already have in his contact list would be trying to call him. Unless maybe it was one of the new girls at the café asking him to take a shift? He sighed at the thought; he had cut back his hours to almost none when school started. He honestly did not understand the type of people who could go to school full-time and work full-time also. And with a baby? He was down to every other Saturday, which sucked on two points: first, with the long span of time between shifts, his body wasn't really used to standing for eight hours at a time; second, though they had given him a raise before summer's end, his paychecks were still pitiful.

_So take the call and pick up some hours, for Christ's sake!_ the voice in his head shouted, and though he rolled his eyes, he pressed the connect button as he pressed the cell to his ear.

"This is Kurt Hummel, how may I help you?" he asked calmly, and almost jumped at the biting tone that answered him.

"Are you that porcelain boy Brittany's dating?"

He blinked in surprise, and a little insult, scowling as he replied, "Who wants to know?"

"This is Coach Sue Sylvester, in charge of the cheer squad that Brittany is on."

"Cheer squad," he repeated, and then felt all blood leave his face. "What's wrong? Is Brittany hurt? Where is she? Did you take her to St Vincent's? Or Billings Clinic, or--"

"Hold on, Porcelain. Brittany is fine. Physically, anyway," she added, and any reassurance her first words gave him vanished in an instant.

"What do you mean? What's wrong?" he asked again, rising to shove everything into his messenger bag.

"It looks to me like she's gone into some sort of shock."

"Shock? But you said she didn't hurt herself--"

"She didn't," the woman cut him off, a gentle tone mixing with the authoritative one she had been using from the beginning. "Now I don't know exactly what happened. But one minute, the girl is doing the routine, smiling and everything, and then the next she looks like she's seen a ghost, and all of a sudden, she's rocking to herself in the corner."

Kurt fumbled around the other chair at his table, and cursed low as he made his way to the door.

"I don't understand," he began. "She's rocking in a corner? What did she see?"

"If I knew, Porcelain, I'd make sure she never saw it again. All I can get out of her is some pitiful whimpers and your name."

"Christ," he muttered, pushing the doors open only to wince at the flash of cold as he exited into the chill, November air. "You're in the gym, right?"

"The small one, to the left of the main one."

"I'll be there in a minute, then. Thanks, Coach, I--"

"No problem, Porcelain," the woman said before the connection was cut off, and while a part of Kurt wondered at the lack of social graces the woman apparently had, another was grateful that she didn't waste time with any nonsense chit-chat. Pocketing his phone, Kurt broke into a run as he headed toward the fitness center, and prayed to someone, _anyone_ , that Brittany was okay.


	15. Chapter 15

"Daddy? I'm hungry."

Kurt snapped his gaze over to the door and then sighed. He would have liked nothing more than to go and make something for the tiny angel standing haloed in the light from the hallway, and bring a smile to her lips to make the angel appearance even more real. He loved making food for his little girl, loved to see her find her own tastes, to try and argue with him when she thought she didn't like something, and then feeling that surge of delight when he proved to himself that once again he knew his own daughter better than she did herself when she ended up devouring whatever was set before her.

"Baby, why don't you ask Aunt Rachel to make you something?" he asked gently instead, and watched as she cocked her head to the side, her curls spilling across her shoulder, and he felt his breath catch, as it always did, when he really acknowledged that he had made this beautiful, perfect, precious being before him.

"Is Mommy sick, Daddy?"

His breath caught once more, for another reason entirely, as he glanced down at the girl in his arms. It had been over an hour since he had carried her back to the dorms, surprising himself with his strength, as well as the rest of the squad if the looks on their faces when he'd lifted her from the ground had been any indication. That Santana girl that Noah was dating had looked more than a little perturbed that apparently Kurt could break through Brittany's shock when she could not, but from what he knew of her, he figured she just wasn't used to situations that she couldn't take over and fix.

It had taken Kurt less than a minute to see what it was that Brittany had seen.

Aside from her fellow cheerleaders, there had been a young man, noticeably tall, even from his crouching position, with blonde hair and a concerned smile that Kurt wanted to slap from the man's face. He had reigned himself in, however, as he got closer and saw that though there was an incredible resemblance, the man in question was _not_ Brittany's ex. Sympathy and all, there was a calculating, shifty look on his face that the other man never had, and the boy--for he really was more boy than man, Kurt thought--looked far too young, as well.

" _I don't suppose you would have an older brother named Eddie_?" Kurt had bitten out as he shoved him aside, and was faintly pleased to see the boy's eyes widen in shock. He couldn't begin to start calculating the odds, but found in the moment that he didn't really care.

" _How_ \--?"

" _Never mind. Just keep your face out of cheer practice_ ," he snapped in reply, and when the boy made to protest, he found himself interrupted by the coach that Kurt hadn't even realized was beside him.

" _You heard the man, Peter. You're out._ "

Kurt had gazed at her in surprise, and a strange look crossed her face as she flicked her gaze toward Brittany, and Kurt could only nod at the connection she had made.

" _Aunt Sue, you can't_ \--"

" _Call me that again, and you're going home, buster. Now get out of my gym_!"

Kurt felt himself start to breath again as the boy exited, and he lifted Brittany into his arms. He hadn't said a word, then, only smiled at the coach, and walked out of the gym as the blonde in his arms murmured, " _Kurt, I saw Eddie. Help me, Kurt. It hurts, Kurt._ "

"Kurt?"

He was jolted out of the flashback by the soft voice, and he focused his gaze on the blonde in his arms.

"Brittany. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you--"

"Is Sunny hungry? I can make her something?"

"No, Britt," he shook his head, not fooled at all by the strength she tried and failed to put in her tired voice. "Rachel's going to feed her. Right, Sunny?"

He glanced back up at the toddler, and she nodded slowly, still frowning at the picture the two of them made. It wasn't completely out of the ordinary for Kurt to hold Brittany; they had had several musical marathons in which they did so. There didn't seem to be such a special occasion at this time, though, and despite having slept in the same bed the last week, it was clear that the little girl was a bit confused by the situation, especially considering it was still daylight outside.

Kurt sighed, and reached out a hand to the beautiful child, and couldn't help the smile that crossed his face as she beamed at the clear invitation. She ran across the room and dived onto the bed next to them, and Kurt laughed as she huddled in close to them. His heart warmed at the smile that crossed Brittany's face as she ran her hand over their daughter's curls, and he wished they could just stay like this forever, safe and warm and protected from all the misery that was in this world.

That was more than unrealistic, Kurt knew, as Sunny asked softly, "Are you okay, Mommy?"

Even Brittany understood that the three-year-old wouldn't understand the reminder of the heartbreak she had suffered, and so she smiled, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"I'm just a little tired, baby mine."

The child nodded sagely as if she understood, and then asked, "Will you have dinner with me?"

"I don't think I'm hungry..."

"Oh...then will you sing to me before I go get Aunt Rachel?"

"Of course. What should I sing?"

"The lullaby you sang last night?"

"Of course," she smiled gently, and Kurt raised a brow, wondering what she had chosen, and then smiled as she began to sing, even joining in on a harmony.

" _They didn't have you where I come from  
Never knew the best was yet to come  
Life began when I saw your face  
And I hear your laugh like a serenade._ "


	16. Chapter 16

Blaine stared at his phone as if willing for it to ring.

It had been three days since he had hung out with Kurt, and though he felt a little bad for the silence, he hadn't been able to pluck up the courage to text him until Friday afternoon. As Cooper had told him, he couldn't treat this as just some fling. Though he wanted Kurt, and even wanted Sunny, too, he'd forced himself to do some serious soul-searching before he let himself be ready for this. He had always jumped into things without thought, and he didn't want to screw this up.

Step one in not screwing up was sending a simple _Hey, what are you up to this lovely Friday afternoon?_

That was perfect. It was friendly, a little flirty, but not begging for anything if for some reason Kurt didn't reciprocate his feelings.

Except that had been at around three, and it was now almost nine-thirty, and he hadn't gotten a reply.

"Blainers! Are you in here?"

He jumped at the interruption and then sighed as Jake walked into the room.

"Jake, I thought you had a date with Santana?" he asked pointedly.

"He does," a smooth voice replied, and Blaine shut his eyes.

To be perfectly frank, Santana Lopez was the one thing that might have made Blaine heed his friends' comments and go back to Ohio for school, or, at the very least, find another place in Montana to go to. Though she was the soul of polite when in a crowd, she had, over the past semesters of his study, seemed to make it her life's goal to harass him on a regular basis, if only in private. The beautiful Latina had lived up to every stereotype he could think of concerning 'evil' cheerleaders and she had never missed an opportunity to make fun of his music, or his taste in clothes, or the way he wore his hair. He'd had a brief respite this semester as they had no classes together, but he should have known, when he heard that Jake was dating her, that he would be seeing her again sooner rather than later.

"Please, God, make it go away," he muttered, and she laughed, the sound one of cruel delight, if there were such a thing.

"Oh, pretty pony, you can't say you didn't miss me."

He opened hazel eyes to meet brown ones and scowled.

"Oh, I could say a lot, Santana. But I have more important things to do, so if you'll please just remove yourself from the premises..."

"Ah, Blaine, don't be like that," Jake laughed, and Blaine shot him a look of disbelief. While he couldn't deny that, for a girl, Santana was rather good looking, he had to wonder that her personality didn't register for the other boy. Or perhaps it did, and he simply chose to disregard it. It wouldn't be the first stupid thing his roommate had done, he knew. "San and I just stopped here so she could freshen up before we go out. The basketball team is throwing a party. It's gonna be tight. You interested?"

"Not remotely," he replied, and then sighed at the pouty look that took over his roommate's face. "Jake. Stop. You know me. I'm not a party guy."

"Well, that's obvious," Santana said, smiling sweetly, and Blaine's eyes narrowed.

"Come on, Blainers. It'll be fun. And there will be girls and--"

"Jake," he cut him off and laughed a little as he said, "I'm gay. Remember?"

"Oh." The boy looked dumbfounded a moment before his eyes lit up and he began, "Well, I'm sure we could still find you--"

"Not interested, Jake. Don't hurt yourself, okay? I'm just going to spend a quiet night in and relax."

"But it's _Friday_."

"Your point?"

Jake looked mutinous, his dark eyes flashing, and Blaine had to resist the urge to laugh again.

"Jacob?" They both turned to look at Santana, and Blaine mouthed the full name in surprise as she went on, "Why don't you go change into something more party-like? I'll keep Blaine here company."

"I don't need--" he started to protest when Jake smiled dopily and replied, "Sure thing, San. I'll be back in just a minute. Love you."

"Same here," she grinned, and waved him off.

Blaine was caught between staring after the traitor--how could he leave him alone with her like this?--and glaring at the cheerleader in suspicion.

"You love Jake?" he asked, and she laughed.

"Oh, hell, no."

"But you just--"

"He said he loved _me_ , and I said 'same here.' What self-respecting girl doesn't love herself?" she asked frankly, and Blaine rolled his eyes and turned back to his desk.

He had tried to warn Jake, but there was no point explaining the finer points of love to someone so dumb. Still, he would be there to pick up the pieces when it all fell apart.

"So what you working on, Blainers?"

He jumped as Santana sat on the edge of his desk, and he was almost horrified as his gaze was drawn to her too-short skirt, and he scowled.

"Don't call me that."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot; you prefer Twinkle-Toes, right?"

"Santana, you saw me dancing _once_ ," he snapped, flipping a page that he hadn't even read. "Do you not have anything better to do than give me stupid, inaccurate nicknames?"

"Why should I bother updating them when remembering the old ones is so much simpler?" she asked brightly, and he sighed.

"You're a pain in the ass, you know that?"

"Oh, pretty pony, you have _no idea_..."

"Please, Satan, I'm trying to study."

The grin was clear in her voice as she said, "So that's why you're staring at your phone, huh?"

He flushed and snapped his gaze up to hers, feeling guilty for reasons he couldn't quite explain, and she laughed in delight.

"Oh, Blanderson. Tell Auntie Tana all about it."

"You can't be serious."

"It's a boy, isn't it?"

Blaine shut the book on his desk; he really hadn't been reading it anyway, and turned to fully face her.

"Santana, I am not having this conversation with you. And whatever happened to your adamant stand on my sexuality? You seemed so sure I was straight," he sniped, and she shrugged.

"I've had several months to decide that you might be gay after all," she replied. "I mean, it _is_ pretty ridiculous that you've never stared at my tits even once." Blaine choked and flushed as she went on, "And you never tried to call me once to finagle a date last summer, either."

"Santana," he managed weakly, "You're _mean_ to me. I mean like, _really horrible_. The fact that you gave me your number in the first place is mind-boggling enough as it is. And you wanted me to call you for a _date_?"

She shrugged and flicked a dark strand over her shoulder.

" _Eres caliente, soy caliente..._ "

He stared at her in confusion, and she sighed.

"The point is, when nothing came of it, I finally accepted your admission. So, since you and I are officially off the market, tell me about this boy you're waiting to call you."

He groaned and put his head in his hands.

"This is ridiculous. Why would you even want to help me?"

"Come on. You love who you love, right? Who am I to stand in the way?"

He looked up at her, taking in her for-once-sincere expression, and a small smile crossed his lips.

"You love who you love," he nodded, and then sighed. "I'm waiting for a text, not a call."

"Semantics," she waved his words away. "So who is he and what did you do wrong that he's not responding?"

"And what makes you think I did something wrong?" he asked, affronted, and she leveled a look at him.

"Blaine."

The fact that she said his name just by itself broke down any remaining reticence at their conversation, and he flushed and looked down awkwardly.

"I may have waited three days to contact him," he admitted, and then jumped as her hand was suddenly upon his cheek, bringing his gaze back up.

"Silly boy," she chided gently. "Knowing you, you've probably fallen for someone who doesn't understand playing hard to get."

"I wasn't playing anything," he retorted, jerking from her grasp, and when she just looked at him, he sighed. "I was trying to make sure I was ready for a real relationship."

"And it can't be a little winter romance?"

He rolled his eyes at her words, and shook his head. "Not with him. He has too much on his plate for me to offer anything less than the real thing."

"Oh? Do tell."

Blaine cast a glance toward his doorway, willing Jake to come back, and then shrugged as the way remained empty.

"He's got a three-year-old kid," he said. "A daughter. Sunny. And I can't in good conscious enter a relationship without knowing for sure that I'm--" He broke off as he took in the girl's wide-eyed expression. "Santana? What's wrong?"

"Tell me you're not after Britt's man, Anderson."

The words were fast and hushed, but they clicked immediately, and Blaine looked at her in surprise.

"You know Kurt?"

"I know Brittany," she corrected somewhat harshly, and he blinked, at the reminder that Brittany was a cheerleader, too, and also at the sudden venom in the Latina's expression. "That girl is beautiful and sweet and perfect, Anderson, and she does _not_ deserve to have a shitty homewrecker like yourself come in and--"

"Whoa, hey, wait," he stood as her words seemed to turn into a tangent. He almost put a hand on her arm to calm her, but then thought better of it. The mood she was suddenly in, it was more likely she would take a bite out of him than anything else. "Santana, I think you're missing some facts here."

"Oh yeah? Please, enlighten me, Buddha," she snapped, and he raised a brow at the name, but shook his head and started to explain.

"Brittany and Kurt are not _together_ , Santana, not like that. They're just friends."

"Friends with a _kid_?" She scoffed at him, whipping her hair off her shoulder. "Don't be ridiculous, Anderson. I am the _queen_ of homewreckers, and I've used every excuse in the book, and if you think you're going to convince me to help you ruin something, you need to come up with something a hell of a lot better than the fucking 'just friends' bit," she spat.

"I am not a homewrecker," he said calmly, a little proud of himself for staying so in the face of her apparent wrath. "And if you want proof, you can just ask Brittany, and she'll explain."

"Explain what, exactly, hobbit?"

"That she and Kurt can't be more than friends because Kurt is gay."

~ + ~ + ~ + ~

Kurt pulled on his vest and stood slowly from the bed, careful not to shake the mattress, and took one step before his arm was caught from behind, and he sighed.

"Brittany..."

"Come back to bed," the girl murmured and he rolled his eyes.

"Leaving aside how awkward that sounds, I have a meeting with Quinn in fifteen minutes, Britt."

She blinked, her blue eyes still a little bleary with sleep, and frowned.

"Is it Monday?"

"No, Britt," he laughed gently, and pushed her hair back out of her face. "It's Saturday. It's just a one-on-one between me and her, okay?"

"Mmm," she murmured, already shutting her eyes, and Kurt couldn't help but grin as her grip on his arm slackened.

After Rachel had fed her her supper, Sunny had come back into the room and they had slept straight through the night, both his girls in his arms, and Kurt had never been more worried. Brittany had been talking in her sleep, mostly about Eddie, and it killed him that she was hurting so bad, even four years later. Brittany was the type that never stopped loving people, though, so it only made sense. He half-wished she would find someone else to fill Eddie's place, even if it tore their little family apart, but he wasn't sure he could stand to see Sunny confused as she likely would be by such a situation, not to mention, he wasn't really sure he would be able to handle it himself.

With a small sigh, he stood straight and slid his phone off the bedside table and into his pocket. He cast a glance back toward his girls, snuggled into each other, before exiting the room and closing the door softly behind him. He stopped just outside the door, surprised to see Rachel sitting in the living room, a steaming cup in her hands, and he ran a hand across the back of his neck.

"Ah, hi. I didn't realize you were up."

"I heard you in the shower," she said simply, and he smiled, and then grinned as she gestured to the extra steaming cup on the coffee table before her. "You still like it loaded with chocolate, right?"

"Of course," he laughed softly, and took the cup and sat beside her.

"So," she began slowly, "How is Brittany?"

His smile shifted, and he sunk back into the cushions.

"She's okay," he answered before taking a drink, and sighed as the chocolate-infused coffee drink filtered through his system. "A little shell-shocked, but..."

"What happened?"

"She thought she saw Eddie."

Rachel's eyes widened almost comically, and her mouth dropped.

" _No._ "

"It wasn't him," Kurt shook his head. "Ironically enough it was his brother."

"You're kidding me. How?"

"Apparently the cheer coach is their aunt or something."

"That's ridiculous."

"You're telling me," he sighed. "Luckily, that bitch of a coach will do anything for her girls so she threw him out. Still, the shock of seeing an almost exact copy..."

"God, that must have killed Brittany."

"She's okay," he shrugged. "I explained it to her when she finally stopped crying, and she got it. It might take awhile for the hurt to go away, though."

"Of course," Rachel nodded, and he took another drink before standing up.

"I have an appointment with the counselor this morning, so I have to get going. Will you watch over them for me?"

"Of course," she said again, smiling as she stood. "I'll even make breakfast."

"Just don't set the house on fire," he teased and gave her a hug.

"Kurt, come on, I know how to cook. I'll even make bacon," she said, grimacing slightly, and he laughed as he shrugged his coat on.

"They'll love you for it. I'll be back in an hour or so," he waved and walked out the door.


	17. Chapter 17

"So let me see if I have this right," Quinn said, frowning, as she passed Kurt a cup of tea. "Coach Sue's nephew is visiting, and he just happens to be Brittany's ex-boyfriend's little brother."

"That's right," he nodded, accepting the cup before leaning back in his seat in her room and crossing his legs.

"And Brittany saw him and had a, for lack of a better word, freak-out."

"Pretty much," he shrugged. "I wasn't there when it started, but she was just rocking back and forth in the corner of the gym, and then just latched onto me when I got there. She started crying, and muttering about Eddie, and then this jerk wants to help, and even I thought it was Eddie. I almost slapped the smirk off his face." He grinned at the thought, and then sighed. "Okay, so I probably wouldn't have. But just seeing his face. And then finding it wasn't even him, but some random ridiculous coincidence that shouldn't even happen. And then realizing that it was a smirk, and not just my feelings about Eddie that made it so. I mean, seriously, Q, the guy _oozed_ jackass."

Quinn laughed at that before covering her mouth, and shrugging apologetically.

"No, it's okay. I'm being dramatic, I know," he sighed again, and rubbed at the back of his neck. "It's just...of all places, why here? And Coach Sue? I feel like I should have known, I mean, with the blonde hair and blue eyes..."

"Kurt, stop," Quinn said gently. "You can't do that to yourself. There are a plethora of blonde-haired, blue-eyed people in this world. You can't think you should have known with those being the only factor."

"Did you just use the word 'plethora'?" Kurt asked, brow raised, and she laughed a little.

"It's from my word-a-day calendar. I've been hoping I'd get the chance to use it." Her smile turned to a serious expression as she went on. "The point is, Kurt, I don't want you to take this personally. It is a ridiculous coincidence, as you said, and there's nothing you can do about it."

"I know," he groaned and put his head in his hands. "But I can't just let it go...Brittany--"

"I know, Kurt, I know. And I'm not saying you have to let it go completely. I'm just saying you can't fuss yourself over this boy. What you can do, is be there for Brittany. If she needs to cry, you let her cry. If she needs to scream, you let her scream. And you need to let her know that she has two very important people who love her very much." He looked up with narrowed eyes, and she smiled a little as she said, "I mean you and Sunny, of course. And I'm sure your friend Rachel loves her, too, if you all have been friends as long as you said last week."

"Oh, yeah, Rachel," he waved the notion off. "She's a little crazy, but yeah, she's got enough love to go around."

"I'm sure," she smiled. "So Brittany already has a really great support group. And you said that Coach Sue kicked her nephew out when she realized what the problem was?"

"Surprised the hell out of me, but yes, she did," he shook his head, still in disbelief at the thought. "I'll probably have to explain more in depth to her. Maybe give her a call this weekend," he frowned.

"I don't envy you that. I've sat through a few of her practices, and let me tell you, that woman is something else. Nothing like my own cheer coaches in college and high school. Though we might have gotten farther with her," she mused, tapping her fingers on her knee, and Kurt rolled his eyes.

"You wouldn't last under her direction. I've sat through a few practices myself, you know."

"Don't underestimate me," she frowned, and Kurt snickered a little, before she went on coolly, "You'll probably need to be specific with the coach. She's understanding as far as she has the knowledge, but if you ask her to take things on faith, well, she's not quite so understanding there. But she will do anything for her girls. She'd hate me for saying so, but she's a regular Mother Hen."

"Strange as that sounds, I think I believe it," Kurt sighed. "But what should I do for Brittany? I mean really _do_. I hate just standing on the sidelines, being helpless."

"So find ways to distract her, then. Make cookies. Read a book together. Throw a dance party."

"Quinn."

"Or take her to see _The Nutcracker_ at the end of the month. She'd like that, the dancing?"

"Yeah," he nodded slowly, starting to smile. "Yeah, she would. And so would Sunny."

"See? Perfect."

"Yeah, except that's not until after Thanksgiving."

"Which is next week."

"So until then...? What?"

Quinn sighed and flipped a stray blonde strand out of her eyes, grumbling under her breath as she pondered the situation. After a moment, she stood and walked into her office, quietly humming to herself. Kurt frowned, both at the action and the song that was so familiar, and yet he couldn't put his finger on it.

"Quinn?"

"I'll be back in a minute," she called, before resuming humming, and his frown deepened.

"Quinn?"

"Patience is a virtue," she sang to the same tune.

"Damn it, what _is_ that song?"

She laughed as she walked back into the room, a notebook in her hands, and Kurt wondered, not for the first time, just how old she was. He had never been rude enough to ask, but he sometimes found it hard to believe that she had a degree and was more than a couple years into her career. He spared a thought to wonder if he could get Brittany to ask, but shook it away. Even though Quinn would never get mad at the sweet, simple blonde, he would know where the question came from, and feel just as rude and guilty as if he had been the one to ask instead.

"So that's what's bothering you, hmm?" He stilled at her question, afraid he had asked anyway, when she went on. "It's just an old song I sang back in high school. I told you I was in glee club, right?"

"Yes. But never mind that. What was that song?"

Instead of answering, she grinned, and started to sing.

" _The moment I wake up  
Before I put on my makeup  
I say a little prayer for you..._ "

Kurt snorted a laugh and shook his head.

"Oh, no. I've awakened the sleeping giant."

Quinn made a face before laughing as she sat down across from him once more.

"If that was your way of telling me I should turn to God," he went on wryly, "I think you're talking to the wrong person."

"Like you don't go to church every Sunday," she snarked back, and he rolled his eyes.

"Please. I go for Brittany. And because I need _somewhere_ to show off those beautiful Sunday dresses I make for Sunny. She's a hit with the preschoolers, you know. Completely ahead of the trends."

Quinn only shook her head fondly, and opened the notebook to a blank page.

"So you would be okay if I put 'Get involved at church' on the list of ways to distract Brittany?" she asked sweetly and he shuddered.

"Spare me." He leaned forward to watch her as she began to write. "A list, huh?"

"I like lists," she said simply. "They're so nice and easy to follow."

"Sure. What are you writing?"

She cleared her throat and began to read.

"Number one. Make cookies. Number two. Read a book together. Number three--"

"If you put 'Throw a dance party' on there, I might have to smack you, Q."

She smiled and continued, "Number three. Do her hair."

Kurt laughed and settled back into his chair.

"I love you, Quinn."

She grinned up at him, before she continued writing.

"Everybody does," she replied, and he laughed a moment until she said, "Since I'm making this list, why don't _you_ make a list concerning why you and Blaine aren't dating yet?" He sputtered the drink he had just taken, and she went on calmly, "You would have sent me a text the instant it happened, Kurt, so don't even try to worm your way out of this."

"Quinn--"

"So why are you two still single? You texted me late Tuesday night that you'd confirmed his sexuality. Was there something else you needed to confirm?"

"So many things, Quinn, before we even _think_ about the dating stage."

"Never mind that you're already in love with him," she said simply, and he nodded.

"Never mind that I'm already-- _Quinn_!"

She grinned at him once more and he scowled.

"So, what's stopping you from admitting it?"

"There is _nothing_ to admit," he declared. "And even if there were, he hasn't contacted me once since then."

Her grin fell immediately, and she reached a hand over to touch his.

"Oh, Kurt..."

"It's my fault," he sighed, shaking his head, but gripping her hand tightly in his nevertheless. "It was our third meeting, and I introduced him to Sunny."

"Oh, _Kurt_...you mean you hadn't even mentioned her?"

"He was still under the impression that I was _straight_ , Quinn. You think mentioning a kid would help with that?"

"So you _introduced_ them instead?"

He winced and a half-laugh escaped him.

"I know. So...ugh. It was just a spur of the moment thing. I was going to introduce him to Brittany, thinking, quite right, I might add, that she would help with the whole 'I'm gay' thing."

"Called him a dolphin, did she?" she asked fondly, and he laughed again.

"Yeah. And added the 'too,' so he had to ask what she meant by that as well, and..."

"So that worked out. But then Sunny..."

"She was just there, you know? I mean, she's _always_ there. And so was Blaine, and then we were listening to _Wicked_ , and we all sang together..."

"Let me guess. Sunny was Glinda, Blaine was Fiyero, and you were Elphaba."

"Oh, it was magical, Quinn. You wouldn't believe it," he sighed, smiling, and she smiled fondly back.

"I've heard Sunny wailing on _Popular_ before."

He grinned at the thought before his smile fell and he sighed again, and Quinn frowned in concern.

"So what happened, Kurt?"

"I don't know. I _don't know_. He was getting along with her great, and neither Rachel nor Brittany managed to scare him off over supper, and Sunny was sitting in his lap almost the entire time, and they were laughing and talking, and I had this thought that _finally_ , everything was going my way, and it was just... _perfect_."

"Nothing's perfect, Kurt."

"Apparently," he replied, and grimaced. "And it's four days now that I haven't heard from him. So I guess he's just a great actor and this all was too much for him."

"Or maybe," she suggested gently, "He's had a rough week, and didn't have time for a chat."

"Come on, Quinn. Not even a text message?"

"It's possible. Maybe he'll text you this weekend."

"Yeah right. If he was gonna text, wouldn't he do it yesterday? Weekends start on Friday for most college kids."

"Well, Blaine isn't most college kids, or you wouldn't have fallen for him, Kurt."

"Ugh, don't you think I know that?" he groaned before eyeing the list that she was still scribbling on. "Are you seriously going to write down every single thing I could do to distract Brittany from this incident? I have a mind that I'm highly capable of using, you know. Your preliminary ideas might spark ones of my own, or, heaven help us, I might come up with something completely original."

The blonde shot him a look, and he braced himself for the fiery retort.

"I was just adding that you should maybe plot out how to seduce Blaine together," she said and Kurt flushed immediately.

" _Quinn_. I'm not trying to seduce anyone!"

"Sure you're not. First step, though, is that you should text Blaine first. Because _maybe_ ," she went on over his protests, "He's a little shy."

"No way. Did you not hear me say he got along with my family _great_?"

"Some people are funny like that, Kurt. One-on-one or in small groups, they're absolutely fine. But any real pressure, like from a larger group or, I don't know, say, a _phone call or text_ , and they freak out. So you're going to have to step up and make the first move."

"But I like the romance of being the _pursued_ , not the _pursue-ee_."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot you were the girl in this relationship," she said blithely and his eyes flashed.

"I think that is _the_ most offensive thing I've ever heard you say Ms Fabray."

A smile twitched at her lips, and she asked, "So did it work?" and he groaned.

"Yes, damn you." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and glared at her before opening it up. "I'll make the first--oh."

She paused at his tone and cocked her head to the side.

"What's up, Kurt?"

"I have a missed text. From yesterday at about three. Huh." He laughed a little and looked up at her abashed. "I guess I didn't think to check my phone for anything after Britt's break-down."

"Well, don't just sit there. _Open it_."

He clicked on the message and felt his breath rush from his lungs as he read.

_From Blaine Anderson: Hey, what are you up to this lovely Friday afternoon?_


	18. Chapter 18

_Good morning, good morning!  
It's great to stay up late,  
Good morning, good morning, to you! _

Blaine rolled over on his bed and growled at the offending noise across the room. When he had learned that he could program different ring tones according to the time of day, he had been absolutely thrilled, and gone, as Cooper liked to say, 'bizzzzerk' in his quest to find the perfect ring tones to score his day.

At nine in the morning on a Saturday when he'd been up long past midnight the night before, the thrill factor was a little lacking.

"Make it stop..."

He swore to himself that if he made it across the room to where his phone lay chirping on top of his desk that he would never again listen to a single word that Santana had to say. Somehow she had convinced him to leave the room last night and go to that basketball party, spouting off some nonsense about how they needed to strategize if they were gonna get what they wanted--and he had never exactly been clear on what she wanted in the first place, though apparently helping him get Kurt helped her--and instead had then proceeded to drape herself over every available guy at the party, with Jake blissfully unaware of her frivolous behavior, and Blaine stuck in a corner with one of the physics majors that would just _not shut up_ about kinetic energy.

In a desperate attempt to get away from the guy, or at least to block out his obnoxious rant, Blaine had grabbed a glass from a table and chugged what he thought was a mix of vodka and tomato juice. He had nearly vomited at the odd combination, but had forced it down when an instant haze came over him, and he went back to the conversation all smiles.

He felt like anything but smiling right now. What had he been thinking with that song? Though _Singing in the Rain_ was great, you had to be some sort of manic depressive idiot to think that song was appropriate for any type of sound effect. Though what that said about himself, he didn't know, but as he pushed himself from the bed, he decided he _was_ an idiot, and he was changing that ring-tone asap.

He was also never going to a party with Jake and Santana ever again.

Pale winter sunlight flickered through the blinds of his window as he stumbled over to the desk, and he winced and answered the phone without bothering to see who it was on the other end.

"'llo?"

"Blaine? It's Kurt."

~ + ~ + ~ + ~

"Do you believe in soulmates, Kurt?"

Kurt tore his gaze away from where Blaine sat on the floor putting together a puzzle with Sunny and looked at Rachel curiously.

"Thinking about Finn again?" he hazarded and she scowled.

"Don't be ridiculous."

He sighed and shook his head. When he had gone to call Finn last week to let him know about Rachel, she had grabbed the phone in desparation and begged him not to. She wanted to do it herself, she said, but she needed time. Giving her time, though, meant that Finn was getting more and more worried, and he had been bombarding Kurt's phone with more messages than normal, with only a percentage of them sounding anywhere near to calm.

"You need to talk to him, Rach," he said gently, grabbing her hand before she could pull it away and looking at her earnestly. "He's freaking out, and if I didn't keep telling him not to call the cops, because 'I'm sure you'll hear from her,' you would be officially classified as a missing person by now. Plus you've missed a week of rehearsals, so they've changed the signs to say that your understudy is playing Maureen instead of the great Rachel Berry."

Her scowl deepened at his words, but she said nothing and he sighed.

"You're not some teenage drama queen anymore, Rach," he whispered, and she sighed in return.

"I don't want to talk about this right now, Kurt."

He just barely resisted rolling his eyes, and instead nodded, and asked, "So who is your soulmate?" He paused at her silence and said slowly, "I hope you're not talking about me and Blaine, because that is just a little crazy, considering we haven't known each other long, and we're hardly even real friends, yet."

"It's not about the length of time, Kurt. Sometimes, you just know."

He laughed a little and settled back into the chair.

"So who did you meet when I wasn't looking this week?"

She looked uncomfortable, fidgeting in her seat, and twirling a strand of hair around her finger, and he sat up in surprise.

"Oh my god, you _did_ meet someone. Tell me _everything_."

She flushed and shook her head.

"It's not like that, Kurt. I didn't--"

"Don't bullshit me now, Berry. You talk of soulmates and have the gall to keep yours from me?"

"No, no." She shook her head vehemently and met his gaze earnestly. "I just...it's difficult, Kurt."

"What? Is he married? Too old? Too young?" He inhaled sharply and leaned toward her, eyes wide as he asked, "You didn't fall for another gay, did you?"

"It's not like that at all, Kurt."

"Then what? Why is it so difficult for you to tell me?"

"You'll think I'm crazy," she pouted prettily and he rolled his eyes.

"That ship has long-since set sail, Rach."

"Hey!"

"So dish. What's wrong with your soulmate?"

She murmured something low under her breath and he sighed in exasperation.

"Was that even in English?"

She scowled at him before saying more clearly, "I think my soulmate is a figment of my imagination."

"A figment of your--"

It took him a second and then he could only stare.

" _No_."

Rachel bit her lip, but didn't turn from him, and nodded as her cheeks flushed prettily.

"Rachel, what did I just say about you not being a teenage drama queen anymore? You can't just let yourself--"

"Kurt. I know. I'm not...not stupid," she added on a whisper, wincing as he did at the word. He was more sensitive to that insult than any other, thanks to Brittany, and had banned the word from his own vocabulary long ago. But he could see why Rachel would use the word in this context, so he let it slide.

"Maybe not," he began slowly. "But you're certainly being unrealistic. As far as we know, Lucy really _is_ just a figment of your imagination, Rach. How can she be your soulmate? Not to mention Finn."

"I don't know, Kurt," she moaned, and her head fell back on the couch. "It's all just a big mess. But she's just... _there_. Always. And she understands me."

"Because she's part of your subconscious. Of course she understands you. That doesn't mean you can just start living in a fantasy world."

"And I'm not going to," she countered, sitting up again, her gaze earnest as she met his. "But I really don't think I'm going to find anybody else."

"Leaving aside the fact that you might be into a girl," he shook his head, "If she _is_ your soulmate, and only lives in your dreams, why leave Finn?"

"I told you I'm not getting into that right now, Kurt. I'm too stressed as it is."

"Sure," he sighed. "So tell me, then, what is Lucy like these days? Has she grown anymore, or does she still look sixteen?"

A look of surprise crossed her face, and Rachel said slowly, "Kurt. You haven't wanted to know anything about Lucy in _years_."

"You haven't really wanted to talk about her except in passing for years," he shrugged, and settled back to watch Blaine and Sunny on the floor again. "So? Tell me what's new."

"Well..."

~ + ~ + ~ + ~

Blaine cast a glance toward the couch where Rachel and Kurt sat talking, and a small smile curved his lips. Kurt was so animated when he talked that Blaine thought he could just watch him for hours.

"Blaine, Blaine! Where does this piece go?"

He snapped back to reality at Sunny's voice and smiled at the toddler sitting in front of him as she held out a piece of the puzzle they were working on. When Kurt had called him that morning, he hadn't expected to be spending his evening working on a thousand-piece puzzle of the Eiffel Tower with a three-year-old. Of course, he hadn't exactly expected Kurt to call, either, and it had taken him a moment to break through his hangover to realize that Kurt was asking him if he wanted to hang out. He had jumped on the chance, though, and his hands had been shaking as he fixed his hair before coming over. He had spent a good deal of time wondering if they would being going out or staying in, and what they would talk about, and if this counted as a date or not.

And then Kurt's daughter had answered the door and before he could even say hello, she had picked up a puzzle box from the floor beside her and pushed it at him, asking, " _Play with me?_ " and looking down into those earnest blue eyes of hers, how could he say no?

So here they sat, half of the Eiffel Tower completed, and Blaine mused that the little girl was better at putting the picture together than he was.

"Let me see," he began as he took the piece she was holding and rubbed his hand along the edges. "Well, look, Sunny. See this flat edge?" She nodded, curls bouncing as she did so, and he tried to reign in his grin as he continued. "Well, you know what that means, right?"

"It's a end piece," she nodded slowly, and he nodded in return.

"That's right. So where are we missing an end piece?"

She frowned a bit, staring down at the puzzle before them, and Blaine found himself caught by how much she looked like Kurt in that moment. He knew she took after Brittany more than Kurt; when the two of them stood side by side, Sunny could pass for Brittany's little sister. Yet even though he hadn't known any of them long, he was already starting to see aspects of Kurt in the toddler's personality.

"I found it!" she cried out, jolting him from his reverie, and he couldn't hold back the grin this time as she slapped the puzzle piece in place.

"Nice job, Galinda. You're good at this."

She grinned in return, at both the praise, and the reference to the last time he had been over when they sang together, before returning to peruse the pile of unplaced pieces, and he grabbed a handful for himself and started to sort through them. He really had to contribute more to this masterpiece they were working on, he told himself, and set to work on finding where the pieces he held might go.

He had placed three of them, all grassy bits at the bottom of the tower when he was interrupted.

"Blaine?"

"Yeah?" he asked, wondering if the piece of tower he held in his hands could be found without filling in some other gaps first, when she continued.

"Are you and Daddy boyfriends?"

He dropped the pieces he still held and snapped his gaze over to Kurt, but apparently Rachel's conversing was enough to keep him from hearing the innocent bombshell of a question his daughter had asked. He slowly turned his gaze back to her, and hoped that the smile he gave her was convincing.

"Um, that's kind of..." Her eyes were so bright, so focused, and even though he knew them to be an exact match of Brittany's rather than Kurt's, he couldn't help but feel as though he was speaking to the latter, and a slow flush burned over his skin. "Um, do you want us to be?"

He squeezed his eyes shut as soon as the words left his mouth, and the burn increased. Damn him and his lack of filter.

"Would you play with me?"

Blaine opened his eyes again, and a small chuckle escaped at the hope in the little girl's eyes.

"If I was your Daddy's boyfriend?" he asked, trying to get a feel on how much she understood, and she nodded in response. "Of course, Sunny. I would play with you every day if I could."

A wide grin split her face, and he suddenly found his arms full of three-year-old girl. He was still for only a few seconds before he returned her embrace whole-heartedly, and he inhaled the sweet strawberry scent that he assumed was her shampoo.

"You're my favorite, Blaine."

He couldn't help his own grin at her words, and set her back from him to push a strand of golden hair out of her eyes.

"You're pretty up there yourself, Galinda." If possible, her grin widened, and he returned it before sighing. "Though I'm not your Daddy's boyfriend."

The immediate disappointment on her face almost made him laugh, but he had to admit, if only to himself, that the thought depressed him, too.

"But I am his friend," he went on gently. "And I'll be coming over a lot, and I'll play with you as much as you want, okay?" If her smile wasn't quite as bright, he soothed his conscience with the fact that he hadn't lied to her to make her happy. "Now, what do you say we get back to this puzzle? We can't visit the Eiffel Tower if it's only half built."

She giggled, the sound warming his heart, and they both returned to the task at hand.


	19. Chapter 19

Mondays are Quinn's favorite day of the week, for several reasons.

The first of them being that she gets to teach her relationships class every Monday morning. There are only fifteen students in the elective course, but it's thrilling, opening up young minds to the possibilities life has for them, and she loves to listen to them debate the dynamics of their own relationships.

Second is that she has a standing lunch date with Sam on Mondays. She knows this is a little strange, considering how long they've been broken up for, but he is one of her best friends, and also the next youngest full-time faculty member at the university, her being the youngest, of course. There are a few professors in the music department in their low thirties, and she thinks that the new communications professor might be twenty-nine yet, but she still feels like a baby at twenty-seven, even if she's been here for four years already, and though she's friendly with her fellow faculty members, she hasn't made any real connections with them.

The third reason that Monday is her favorite is that she gets to meet with Kurt, Brittany, and Sunny every Monday afternoon at one-forty-five. She's not ashamed to admit that of all the students that come to see her, Kurt and his little family are her favorites. She had worried, at first, about how she would handle a weekly group counseling session; though she was just as concerned about encouraging the family dynamic in their strange situation as Kurt had been when he had first approached her about meeting, she had often found that there was a wall between group members that prohibited her and them from speaking of anything truly worthwhile. Brittany, however, was the most open and honest young woman Quinn had ever met, and though she could tell that Kurt was not as comfortable as the free-speaking cheerleader in opening up about any issues they might have, he had proved himself ripe for the challenge, and Quinn sometimes wondered if she was getting more out of their sessions than they were. It didn't hurt that Sunny was probably the most delightful little girl Quinn had ever seen, and Kurt was so easy to talk to once he relaxed, and Quinn considered the family to be good friends outside her office, and even in it.

Such good friends they were that it didn't bother her in the slightest that Kurt had left a book in her office after their session, and, as he wasn't answering any texts, she was forced to drop by his room to drop it off. After so much time together, she knew his schedule inside and out, so she figured he was either playing with Sunny or doing his periodic bit of cleaning that he had mentioned calmed him when he was stressed.

The thought caused a frown to cross her brow as she entered the dorm enclosure. Brittany had seemed perfectly fine today when she had broached the subject of her breakdown from the previous Friday, but there was a strange look in her eyes when she had said she was fine, and Quinn had a feeling that the young woman had lied to her for the very first time. She wondered that the cheerleader had never gotten over her high school romance, but considering the nature of her and Kurt's relationship, Quinn would bet that she had never had a transition relationship that would have allowed her to do so.

_Not that you ever really had one of those yourself_ , a small voice whispered inside, but she shook it off as she walked along the pathway, turning right at the fork in the concrete path to get to Kurt's room. Though she and Sam had been 'high school sweethearts,' the stereotype stopped at the label, and if she was perfectly honest, even being married straight out of high school as they had been, she wasn't really sure if she had ever loved him, not the way you should when you were married. She sometimes wondered if she was even capable of loving someone that way, but when she had haltingly broached the subject with Sam, he had assured her she was entirely capable and just hadn't met the right person yet, and assured her as well that no matter what, there were no hard feelings that he wasn't that person.

A small smile crossed her lips as she remembered the conversation that had culminated in their divorce, and she wondered what it said about her that she considered that event to be one of the happier moments in her life. She brushed the idea aside, though as she knocked on Kurt's door.

There was no answer, and she hesitated a moment, a bit indecisive about her next move when she remembered Kurt saying that due to his friend Rachel staying with them, he had left the door unlocked so she could get in if she left without having to have her own key, or knock and possibly interrupt something. She felt a little tug inside at the name, but pushed it aside as she turned the doorknob slowly.

"Hello? Kurt?" she called out as she walked in, but the apartment seemed to be empty. "Brittany?" There was still no answer as she shut the door behind her, and though she figured Brittany was at cheer practice and Kurt had just stepped out, she went on just in case, "I'm here to return the book you left behind? It looks like a math textbook. Though I didn't even know you were taking--"

Her words cut off as she heard a soft voice singing, coming from Brittany's room.

" _There are moments you remember all your life.  
There are moments you know will be with you all your life_."

She frowned as she stepped further into the apartment. That didn't sound like Brittany, though the voice was soft enough that perhaps the volume had distorted her normally bubbly tone. She walked down the small hallway at the back of the apartment and stopped just outside Brittany's door as the voice went on.

" _Her face will be written on my mind.  
Will be written on my heart.  
As long as I live_."

What was that from? Quinn's frown deepened as she pushed the door open, ready to ask, only to go still at the sight of the brunette kneeling on the floor by Brittany's dresser. Who--? The thought cut short as she saw the glass around the girl that she was picking up, and she was jolted into motion again, and rushed over to her.

"Oh, my god. Are you okay? Wait, don't touch that, I'll find a dustpan or--"

"I already found it," the voice replied, and Quinn felt something strange start in her stomach. She shook off the feeling, though, as she knelt beside the girl and looked at the photo she was painstakingly taking from the frame. It was one of her, Kurt, Brittany and Sunny, shortly after they had met for the first time. There had been an art walk downtown, and on a whim, Quinn had invited the trio to go with her and Sam, hoping to get to know them better, and to make them feel a little more comfortable with each other, since they were all of them so far from home. Sam had snapped this photo just after they had stopped and gotten coffee, and they were laughing at something Brittany had said, she couldn't remember what now, but it had been a good night, and the start of a beautiful friendship.

"Oh. I remember that day," she said softly. "Sunny spent half the night glaring at me, trying to figure out who this stranger was that was talking to her mommy and daddy. She came around towards the end, though, after I got her a vanilla ice cream cone. And lord, wasn't _that_ a mess."

She grinned at the memory, only to have it falter as the girl before her slowly raised her gaze to meet her own. It felt like her breathe had been suddenly slammed out of her, and she blinked as she found herself drowning in warm, brown eyes.

"You're Rachel," she breathed out after a moment, and the girl smiled, her eyes wide with surprise and disbelief, and also an immense amount of delight.

"And you're Lucy. Nice to finally meet you in the real world," she grinned, and then they both started laughing.

~ + ~ + ~ + ~

Rachel wasn't sure if she should pinch herself to wake up, or if she was risking bruising herself if she did. Their laughter had quickly petered off as Lucy --or Quinn, as she had introduced herself as-- had fussed over the broken glass. Never mind that it was Rachel's fault; she had only been trying to do a little cleaning while Kurt and the girls were out, and then she had seen that photo on Brittany's dresser and had dropped it almost immediately after picking it up. Which was how Quinn had found her, trying to pick up the bigger pieces before brushing up the smaller ones and then going over the area with a vacuum just in case. Quinn had insisted on doing the vacuuming herself, and Rachel, nervous and excited at meeting the woman she had only just admitted to Kurt the other day might be her soulmate, had gone into the kitchen to fix them a drink or something, and now, here they sat, on opposite ends of the sofa, steaming cups of coffee on the table before them, and neither one of them seemed to know what to say.

"So, you..." Quinn began, before trailing off into nothing.

"Me."

They both grinned, and then turned away, and Rachel reached out for her coffee cup. She noted out of the corner of her eye that Quinn hadn't done the same, and she flushed in a delayed sort of horror.

"Oh my god. You don't drink coffee. I'm sorry, I knew that, you've told me so many times, and I forgot, and I just--" she had reached out for Quinn's cup to remove it or something, when her hand caught hers in her own, and she froze.

"Rachel."

She hazarded a glance up into the most beautiful green eyes she had ever seen, waking or sleeping, and she flushed again, now in embarrassment at her outburst.

"I'm sorry. I'm just..."

"Nervous?"

She returned the small grin Quinn gave her and nodded.

"Which is outrageous, of course, because as a performer, I simply can't afford to be nervous in any context."

Quinn's grin grew at the haughty tone.  
"Now there's the Rachel I know and lo--" She cut off, and they both flushed at her almost-confession.

Rachel coughed to clear her throat before asking, "So, what are we, exactly?"

"Besides previously figments of our imaginations?"

"I never really considered you to be a part of my imagination," Rachel said softly.

Quinn looked at their still-clasped hands and sighed.

"I'm a bit too practical to think you could have been anything else. It's part of why I went into psychology. I thought if I could cure my own delusions, I could cure anybody else's."

"And how's that working out for you?"

They both grinned before a solemn air took over the room.

"Um...well," Quinn began after a moment, "Now that I've ascertained the reality of our situation, I have to admit, I really have no problems with this sort of thing." She nodded between them, squeezing her hand a little, and Rachel nodded in return.

"Neither do I. I have two gay dads, so this is nothing out of my grasp."

"And Kurt is one of my best friends. Is it weird to be best friends with a student?" she asked, and Rachel rolled her eyes at the clearly rhetorical question.

"Yeah, he's my best friend, too. He talks about you a lot, by the way. It's a wonder I didn't connect the dots."

"I'm counseling him, and I didn't connect anything."

"Guess we're both a little slow, huh?"

They both laughed a little and Rachel found herself scooting a little closer to the other woman.

"So this is totally natural," Quinn began.

"Absolutely."

"Except."

"I've never kissed a girl before," Rachel admitted. "Not even on stage."

"Neither have I, stage or otherwise."

There was a small pause before Quinn held up their joined hands and smiled.

"This is nice. We can take it slow. Get to know each other in the real world."

"Yeah. It's just really great to finally meet you Lu--I mean, Quinn."

"No, Lucy's fine. It's great to finally meet you, too, Rachel."

_Do you believe in soulmates, Kurt?_ Rachel thought as she edged even closer, and a bright smile crossed her lips. _Because I totally do._


	20. Chapter 20

"So what you're saying, Porcelain, is that that no-account kid is Brittany's former mate's sibling?"

"Um..." Kurt paused as the awkward phrasing repeated in his head before nodding. "Yes, Coach Sue. That's exactly what I'm saying."

"And the idiots looks just like each other?"

Considering they were her nephews, he wondered a little at her question, but simply said, "Yes, ma'am."

The older lady looked like she wanted to protest at the title, but instead sat back in the chair in her office and nodded.

"I see. And Brittany saw Peter and...yes, that makes sense. Crazy sense, but then again this is Brittany we're talking about."

Kurt bristled at the insinuating note to her voice and started to call her out on it, rising halfway from his seat when she waved him back down.

"Don't get your panties in a twist, Lady. I like Brittany. And I can't believe I'm saying this, but I like you, too. It takes guts to move halfway across the country when you're just starting a family. You almost remind me of a younger, gayer Sue Sylvester. Not that I would ever consider starting a family, that's ridiculous, and nonsense, to boot. I mean, honestly, can you see me playing Mommy? Ugh. And with stretch marks?"

"I--"

"Don't answer that," she cut him off, and the closest thing he'd ever seen to a smile crossed her lips as she added, "But you're alright, kid."

"Um, thanks?" He couldn't be sure that she was actually complimenting him, but from what he had seen of her in the past few months, he figured he would be better off giving thanks than not.

"So other than keeping that punk out of practice, is there anything else I can do to help?"

Part of Kurt wanted to laugh at the question; Sue Sylvester was a bitch through and through, and her offering to help was on par with pigs flying. But he only smiled and shook his head.

"Just do what you do, Coach. Brittany might be fragile sometimes, but she'll notice if you're pulling your punches with her."

"I know what you mean," she nodded. "My older sister was like that."

"Would that be Eddie and Peter's mother?"

Any openness that had been in her face closed off immediately as Sue stood, and Kurt somehow knew he had asked the wrong question.

"No," she said shortly, and walked to the door, her movement a clear gesture for him to leave. "I have to finish some prep-work before the girls finish their warm-up, Porcelain. Thanks for coming in."

"Uh, you're welcome," he began hesitantly as he rose and followed her to the door. "And please don't hesitate to call me if Brittany has another episode. I might be the only one that can help break her out of it."

The coach's expression softened at his helpless statement, and she nodded.

"I'll put you on speed dial, right after the President of the United States, and my attorney, Gloria Allred."

"Um..."

"Now get out of here. Your pale perfection is on the verge of giving me an inferiority complex, and Sue Sylvester doesn't get complexes."

He blinked at her and rushed out before she could say anything more. Sometimes, the things Coach Sue said, it was like talking to an older, scarier Brittany. The great spaghetti monster in the sky willing, she would stay the sweet girl he loved forever.

"That is one scary woman, dude."

Kurt turned in surprise at the voice behind him, and then grinned.

"Noah. What are you doing here? Do you have weight-training today?"

The tall, mohawked figure rolled his eyes, and shook his head.

"Come on, Kurt, seriously? It's cheer-practice," he gestured to the small gym behind them.

"Of course," Kurt grinned. "Got your eye on anybody in particular?"

"You're seriously talking girls with me, Kurt?" Noah raised a brow in surprise, and Kurt sighed.

"No. I'm just wondering who I should invite to the Christmas party."

"Wait, you're throwing a party?"

"Well, I used to every year back home. I figured I should keep up the tradition," he shrugged.

"Well count me in. Though I don't know where you think you're gonna hold a party in your dorm, but whatever."

"Why, Noah, I thought it'd be obvious," Kurt smiled as the other boy draped his arm over his shoulders. "We'll have the party at your place."

Noah paused, and then grinned.

"Damn right we will. I'll supply the booze if you decorate."

"Deal. And I get veto power on the guest list." When he started to protest, Kurt spoke over him, "Remember Halloween, Noah?"

"Yeah, it was bangin."

"Yeah," he nodded. "Half of your guests tried to 'bang' Brittany."

"Well, she _is_ totally tappable."

"Ugh. Please, Noah, keep it in your pants." He laughed as they started toward the exit, and Kurt went on, "So shall I assume you're still with that Lopez girl?"

"Santana? Yeah, I guess you could say that," he muttered, easing away and forward, and Kurt shook his head as he understood his meaning.

"Trouble in paradise?" He said it with a little teasing lilt, but he knew the other boy knew he cared, and he continued, "Honestly, the two of you are like a roller-coaster and--"

"She's cheating on me again."

Kurt paused and raised a brow before asking, "She told you that?"

"No. She said she was 'expanding her repertoire.'" Kurt couldn't help but laugh as he went on, "I'd be pissed if I wasn't so turned on thinking about what she might be doing."

"You two are hopeless. Why don't you just break up?"

He shrugged and ran a hand over his mohawk.

"I don't know, man. It's just easier sticking with her, you know? And it's not like we don't have a good time. I mean, just last night, she--"

"No details, please," Kurt cut him off, frowning. "I'm still trying to get over the last time you waxed poetic over your sexual escapades."

Kurt shivered a little, and he couldn't be sure if it was from the images that conversation brought up, or the sudden chill in the air as they stepped outside and started walking the path toward his dorm.

"Don't be a prude, Hummel," Noah laughed, and Kurt just rolled his eyes.

"I'm not a prude. I'm a parent. I don't generally find myself engaging in x-rated conversations, especially not when I'm putting my little girl to bed," he added archly, reminding the other boy of where that last conversation had taken place.

Noah had the grace to flush before a smile crossed his lips, and he asked, "So where is the little monster anyway? Brittany's obviously at cheer-practice and you--"

"You did _not_ just call Sunny a monster," Kurt dead-panned, and Noah laughed as he put his arm around him once more.

"Come on, Kurt. You're like the ultimate diva, and Brittany is, well, Brittany. If that doesn't mix to make a monster, I don't know what does."

"Noah Zechariah Puckerman," he growled, and Noah held up a hand.

"Hey, now, nobody ever said a monster couldn't be a princess, did they?"

"I'm pretty sure, in fact, somebody did."

"What? come on, you can't tell me you haven't seen _Shrek_."

"And now you're comparing my daughter to an ogre. That makes it all better. Thanks, Noah," he said icily as he let them into the dorm enclosure. "And Sunny had a playdate with one of her friends at church this afternoon."

Noah shook his head.

"That's kind of whack, dude. I mean, I know you love to play dress-up or whatever with Sunny, but you going to church? That's just..."

"Isn't playing dress-up enough?" he asked archly, and then sighed. "I know it's a little messed up. But Brittany believes in God, and she keeps telling me how much God loves everybody, even unicorns like me," he laughed a little as they turned the corner. "And it's not that I believe that God actually does, but, well, I believe in Brittany, so..."

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense," Noah murmured. "I mean, Brittany would believe I was the president if I told her, and if Brittany can love you even when the rest of those Jesus freaks tell her she shouldn't, then maybe they're the ones that got it wrong."

"Uh-huh," Kurt frowned at him a moment as he started to open his door. "Though I think you're underestimating Brittany if you think you can convince her you're the president."

"You wound me, Kurt," Noah gasped, and Kurt started to retort when he stepped inside only to stop as he saw Rachel on the couch, in an animated conversation with Quinn, of all people.

"Quinn?"

They both snapped their gazes to him in surprise, and a wide smile crossed Rachel's face.

"Kurt--"

"Whoa."

Kurt turned back to see Noah gaping and he sighed as he made introductions.

"Rachel, this is my friend Noah Puckerman. Noah, this is Rachel Berry, my best friend from high school. And I'm assuming you two already know each other," he finished, gesturing to Quinn, and she smiled politely at him.

"Good to see you again, Noah."

"'Sup, Ms. Fabray? Kurt, can I see you in the kitchen for a minute?"

He frowned at the intensity behind his question, and almost pointed out the fact that the kitchen was completely open to the living room, but the words stalled at the look in his eyes and he sighed.

"Sure. Don't mind us, you too. I'm going to see about something for supper."

The two girls waved distractedly, already deep into their conversation again, and Kurt followed Noah into the kitchen area.

"Is something wrong, Noah?"

"She is so hot."

"What?" He frowned up at his friend, wondering where this was coming from, and said, "Come again?"

"The Jew. She _is_ Jewish, right? My mind's not playing tricks on me?"

"Rachel?" He almost laughed, but he could tell the other boy was serious, and he shook his head. "Yeah, she is, but Noah, come on. You were just moaning about Santana's behavior. Don't you think you should give it a rest before you try to retaliate by cheating back?"

"Well, I--"

"Not to mention, she is very happily engaged," he said, wincing a little, but feeling good in that it was only a _half_ lie. As far as he knew, Rachel hadn't called off the engagement. Yet.

"No way."

The devastated look on Noah's face almost broke Kurt, and he struggled to remain cool as he replied.

"Way. Besides. Rachel may be beautiful, but she's also crazy. You'll wanna light yourself on fire."

Noah's gaze was past him, clearly on the girl in question, and he grinned wide as he said, "She can light my fire any day."

"Ugh. Noah, you would strangle her in an hour."

"An hour's good," he nodded, and Kurt sighed.

"Noah. Stop. Just. No."

"Ah, Kurt..." he whined, and Kurt finally laughed.

"I mean it. You stay away from her."

The mohawked figure pouted, looking awkwardly childish, and Kurt almost laughed again, before the boy sighed and nodded.

"Fine. I'll be on my best behavior, I promise."

"I've seen your best behavior," Kurt frowned, and then shrugged, "But I'll accept it. Now was there a reason you followed me to my dorm or are you just here to annoy me?"

"What? A guy can't spend time with his boy?"

"I'm your _boy_ , now, huh? I don't recall agreeing to that."

"But you--"

"Noah. Why don't you go home? Clearly you have no purpose here."

"Kurt..."

"Don't lie to me, Noah. You know you were only hanging around hoping Sunny would be here."

"Then why did I follow you after you said she was gone?" he challenged and Kurt raised a brow at him.

"Obviously you're desperate for attention. Look, I'll call you when she's back, okay? The Kuchins should be dropping her off about six or so, okay?"

"Kuchin? Isn't there a Kuchin girl in my history class?"

"Since it's _your_ history class, I wouldn't know," Kurt replied drily. "But I believe the kid's mother does go here, yes. Her daughter, Hannah, she's a little younger than Sunny, but they seem to get along great, so I figure a year or so doesn't matter."

"Yeah...yeah. Okay," Noah nodded and backed toward the door. "You promise to call when she's back?"

"Cross my heart, Noah." His tone was long-suffering, but Kurt couldn't bite back the grin in response to the one that blossomed on his friend's face.

"Sweet." He turned and gave a smart salute to Rachel and Quinn. "Ladies. Good evening to you."

The two barely acknowledged him as he walked out, and Kurt laughed a little.

"I would say you're being rude, Rach, but Noah will be around enough I'm sure you'll get to know him plenty well."

Rachel looked up at him as if just realizing he was there and then blushed at his words.

"I'm so sorry, Kurt, I--"

"It's my fault," Quinn spoke over her, smiling at the girl, before aiming that same smile at Kurt. "Rachel and I were just getting to know each other better, is all."

"Don't worry about it. I'm glad you two met, anyway," he said, turning back to the kitchen and pulling the cookbook from the shelf above the stove. "Not because I think you need counseling, Rachel," he clarified, "Though you might, actually--"

"Hey!"

"But because you're two of my closest friends, and I want you to get to know each other," he finished, flipping to the vegetarian section of the book and sliding a finger along the list of recipes. "What do you think of a spinach lasagne, Rach? Though I don't know if we actually have spinach," he murmured, and reached up to open one of the cupboards and perused the cans inside. "God, what I wouldn't give for fresh vegetables. If you're here in the summer, Rachel, you have to come to the farmer's market with me. I bought some asparagus in August that about killed me, it was that good. The stuff at Albertson's or that organic food place on 24th, they just can't compare."

"I'll bet. But Kurt, isn't it a little early to start dinner?"

"What do you mean?" he frowned as he turned around and looked down at his watch. "It's almost--oh. Three-thirty."

"You hungry or something, Kurt?" Quinn teased and he scowled.

"No. I just got confused, with Sunny on her playdate, and it messed up my schedule."

"Aw," Rachel cooed. "You're going through Daddy withdrawal!"

"Can it, Rachel. Besides, it's not like this is the first time. It's just not a regular thing."

"Of course," she grinned, and he nearly flipped her the bird, but stopped when he remembered Quinn was sitting right there. They might be good friends, but there were still some illusions he had yet to shatter, and a cool attitude in front of others was one of them. Considering it was Rachel he had to remain cool in front of, he thought he had his work cut out for him, and he sighed before turning back to the kitchen.

"What if I baked something? Like a cake or pie or--"

"You really _are_ messed up over this, aren't you?" Rachel asked, her voice calmer, more tender this time, and he shifted awkwardly on his feet, but said nothing. "How about chocolate chip cookies?"

He shot a glance at her over his shoulder and raised a brow.

"I don't have any vegan chocolate chips, Rach. The egg substitute, yes. The chips, no."

"A little won't kill me," she shrugged and he rolled his eyes.

"You never could say no to chocolate," he said and started pulling out bowls and utensils and ingredients. He set the oven to 350-degrees and started mixing the powdered ingredients in a smaller bowl while he softened the soy-butter in the microwave.

"You've always been a pro at multi-tasking," Rachel said fondly, and he grinned at her over his shoulder.

"I have many talents. Speaking of talents, Quinn, you seem to have one to be able to handle the great Rachel Berry for more than ten minutes."

"Hey, I'm not that bad."  
"Yeah, you're worse," he laughed, and she sighed. "What did you come over for, anyway?"

"Oh," Quinn began, surprise lighting her eyes. "I almost forgot. I have your math book; you left it in my office."

"Math book?" he frowned, taking the soy-butter out of the microwave and mixing it into the sugar in the larger bowl. "I'm not taking math this semester."

"That's what I thought. Maybe it's Brittany's?"

"She has been carrying an extra book around lately," he nodded slowly. "She said something about it leading to true love. And it was a math book, huh?"

"Leading to true..."

Rachel laughed out loud as Quinn trailed off, and Kurt frowned at the both of them.

"So she thinks love is logical, so what?" He poured the flour mixture into the creamed sugar mix, tapping the bowl to make sure it all got out, and started stirring. "Anything's possible."

"Of course," Quinn nodded, and the look she gave Rachel could only be described as fond exasperation, and he wondered just how close they had gotten in the short time he had been out of the dorm. He'd walked Brittany over to cheer-practice five minutes early so he could talk to Coach Sue, so it wasn't even half an hour he'd been gone. Still, this was Quinn, who'd gotten Sunny talking to her in a single day, and gotten him out of his shell almost as quick. And Rachel didn't mind sharing her life's story (otherwise known as _The Great Rachel Berry Tale_ , as she insisted she was naming her memoirs, no matter how many times he explained how cheesy that title was) with anybody who would listen, and even with some who wouldn't. Them getting along was a good thing, and besides, stranger things had happened.

"Did I ever tell you, Kurt?" Quinn asked after a moment when he had turned back to the counter-top, and flipped a few pages in the cookbook to check that his memory for this favorite recipe was as good as he thought.

"Tell me what?" he asked, mixing the chocolate chips into the batter.

"My first name."

"Um, it's Quinn, isn't it?" Had he remembered to add the salt? Forgetting salt, even to cut down on his sodium intake, was pure suicide when it came to making cookies. "Unless Quinn is short for something?"

"No, it's just Quinn. But, well, actually, that's my middle name."

"Oh?"

"My first name is Lucy."

"That's nice," he said distractedly as he tried to convince himself not to lick the spoon in his hand. And then the other shoe dropped, and he quite literally dropped the bowl of cookie dough on the floor. He didn't even register the crash, or think about the wasted ingredients, or how annoying of a clean-up job it was going to be. He whirled around to stare at Quinn--or Lucy, his mind corrected--halfway out of her chair to help, but held back by Rachel. _Rachel_. And he realized then, that the grasp wasn't casual. And that, had he been more focused, he might have seen that the two had been holding hands since probably before he came in.

"Oh dear," he said faintly, and dropped to his knees, careless of the glass and cookie dough beneath his favorite pair of jeans. "Oh dear."

"Um, surprise?" Rachel laughed, a new light in her eyes he had never seen before, and Kurt shut his own as he tried to take in the fact that his one of his best friends was holding hands with his school counselor.

"Oooooh...fuck."


	21. Chapter 21

Thanksgiving was not only a time for sitting around the table and listing all the things you were grateful for. It wasn't just about the turkey and cranberry sauce, or the football game that played in the afternoon. It wasn't the free reign to finally play all the Christmas music you wanted to, or even about all the shopping that happened over the weekend. No, for Kurt Hummel, Thanksgiving was about spending time with his girls without having to worry about anything else. It was being able to watch Sunny as she danced around the living room and not wonder what time it was. It was having a conversation with Brittany and not trying to pinpoint the important parts and forgetting the rest.

When Kurt was still a bright-eyed teenager, the thought of having his own family had been distant. Of course, he had wanted the husband, the two-point-five kids, and a cat--he was adamant that they were more loyal than dogs, and better cuddlers, too, if only in that they didn't try to curl around you when you were busy or in a rush--but he had been more into the romance side of things. Happily Ever After was a given, but it was the fairy tale preceding that ending that he was after.

Then Sunny happened, and while Kurt still yearned for his own fairy tale, as time went on, he was more and more certain that he wouldn't change the way things had panned out for the world. Seeing his daughter grow, helping Brittany unleash her intellect, both gave him a thrill nothing else ever had. Finn once asked if it had hurt, giving up on his dreams of New York and Broadway, and it hadn't taken two seconds for Kurt to reply that he was already living his dream.

Sometimes it was more dream-like than other times.

"Kurt, are you sure it's okay to give a toddler whole milk? When I was a baby--"

"You were allergic, Rachel, I know, you've told me several times," Kurt sighed and set the golden-brown turkey on the table. "Sunny is not. And no, she is not turning vegan at her age. You can convert her later."

He couldn't help but laugh at the pout on her face, before frowning down at the table. There was more food on it than there had been all semester, and he wasn't completely sure it wouldn't break under the weight, no matter how sturdy it had seemed up until now. Of course, he would have bought a smaller turkey, made smaller portions of the sweet potatoes and dressing, but with Rachel there, and by default Quinn, who had dragged along Sam--" _Because no one should spend Thanksgiving alone, Kurt, and he hasn't been weird once about Rachel and I_."--he'd gone all out, even adding some vegetarian/vegan choices for Rachel. Of course, with the table covered with food and the too many people and not enough chairs, they were relegated to eating in the living room, sitting on cushions Japanese-style around the coffee table, as the Thanksgiving Parade played on the television, but it was cozy and warm, and Kurt wouldn't change a thing.

"Are you sure you don't need any help, Kurt?" Quinn asked from beside him, and he shook his head.

"No, I'm fine."

"Kurt's been up since five, I swear," Rachel teased from the floor, flicking her eyes toward him before focusing back on Sunny and the sippy cup she was tossing lightly up and down. _Thank God for lids_ , Kurt thought as she went on, "I woke up to find him in an apron, mixing spices, the perfect housewife."

Kurt looked down at the apron in question and rolled his eyes.

"You're just mad I didn't let you help."

"We could have been eating earlier if you'd let me," she grumbled, and he laughed.

"Yeah. Take-out from the Chinese restaurant because you would have burned the kitchen down. Don't think I've forgotten what you were like in high school home ec."

Quinn laughed at his words, and Kurt grinned over at her while Rachel pouted, and Kurt realized that these two, they were his girls, too.

"I feel like I'm drowning in estrogen," Sam said as he walked over from the sofa. "But damn, it smells good in here."

"That's the smell of genius," Kurt replied loftily, but his smile was genuine as he said, "Thanks, Professor Evans."

"You know you can call me Sam, right, Mister Hummel?"

"As soon as you call me Kurt," he answered, and they both grinned at each other. It was crowded, true, but this was what holidays were supposed to be like. "I think this is about everything. Has anyone seen Brittany?"

For the first time he noticed that the other blonde--and god, he'd already been outnumbered between Britt and Sunny, but now with Sam and Quinn, he was quickly becoming a minority--wasn't in the living room, which was odd, considering how she'd been so excited to watch the 'floating cartoons' in the parade.

"I think she's in her room," Rachel began. "I saw her walking that direction a few minutes ago."

"Oh. Well, I'll get Brittany, if you guys wouldn't mind getting the dishes out? Rachel, you can show them where things are?"

"Of course," she nodded and stood, holding out a hand to Sunny. "You want to help your Aunt Rachel? Maybe you can get the silverware?"

"Okay!" the toddler replied, grinning, and Kurt grinned himself at the sight before walking through the small crowd and down the hall to the bedroom he was still sleeping in because Rachel had told him she and Quinn were 'taking things slow.'

To be honest, it still took an effort to wrap his head around the fact that Quinn was _Lucy_ , even with three days worth of it being right in front of him. Any time that Quinn wasn't teaching or counseling, he could find her sitting on the sofa with Rachel, just talking, perfectly innocent, though their hands were never separated, and the night before when she left Quinn had pressed a kiss to Rachel's forehead that had left the younger girl blushing for nearly an hour afterwards. If it didn't feel so awkward, Kurt would be teasing her all the time, but as it was, he wanted to blush himself, and he felt like he was in grade school when the kids in his class had first started to pair off. He didn't know what to say, and there were remnants of that feeling he'd gotten when he realized he wasn't like the other boys who were all girl crazy.

It was ridiculous, of course, that he felt this way, and he'd said as much when he talked to Brittany about it before bed, but she had smiled, kissed his cheek, and told him, her words curiously logical despite the context, that " _Sometimes a unicorn doesn't learn magic like other unicorns, Kurt, because he gets to learn different things that make him even more magical in the end_."

The logic he had taken from her words was that it was okay to feel weird about things, because he just wasn't on the same level as Rachel and Quinn when it came to their relationship, and he would get there in his own time.

A small smile curved his lips and he knocked at the closed door.

"Britt? It's time to eat, hon." He pushed the door open and then paused in surprise. Brittany was standing on tip-toe on her desk chair, hanging Christmas lights around the edge of the ceiling. He could see the intense concentration upon her face, and instead of calling out to her, walked over slowly, and put his hand on the back of the chair. "Brittany? What are you doing?"

She grinned wide as she eased back from the wall and turned to face him.

"Kurt. I'm making it glow in here."

Kurt looked at the strands haphazardly strung, and had to admit he was a little impressed that she had gotten so much up in the short time she had been missing.

"I see. And what brought this on?"

"There was a floating cartoon from _A Charlie Brown Christmas_? And they had a tree, and it _glowed_ Kurt, like super bright, even though the sun is shining and everything!"

She practically glowed herself as she told him about it, and he couldn't help but grin as he took her hand and led her down to the floor.

"That sounds amazing, hon. And I wish I could have seen it. But it's time to eat; I have supper on the table and everything."

"Oh! I'm sorry, Kurt, I didn't mean to keep you waiting."

"No worries, Britt. Though I saw Sam eyeing the sweet potatoes, and I think you might have competition for those."

She gasped, eyes wide, and was out the door almost instantly. Kurt laughed as he followed her out, and grinned as he saw Sunny standing on a chair having a spoon war--and thank God they were smart enough not to give her a knife--with Sam.

"Alright, guys, I think we're all here. Anyone want to say the blessing?"

He reached out a hand to Sunny, who jumped down immediately and latched on tight, and his heart warmed as he turned to face the rest of them.

"I'll do it," Rachel offered, sounding almost shy, and he wondered at the possibility that she might be so in the face of having the spotlight, and decided it must be Quinn's presence. He smiled at her encouragingly and she cleared her throat and began, her tone resonant, " _Barukh atah Adonai Eloheinu Melekh ha'olam, she'hakol nih'ye bidvaro_ \--"

"Whoa, whoa, wait," Kurt shook his head while the blonde trio stared at Rachel in a mixture of awe and confusion. "I'm sorry, Rachel, I'm sure whatever you're saying is perfectly relevant, but none of us speak Hebrew."

She flushed, the look on her face telling she had forgotten that little fact, and lifted her hands to cover her face, groaning in embarrassment.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry--"

"No, no," Quinn shushed her, and put her arm around her waist, pulling her in close. If anything, the motion only made Rachel blush further, but at least she stopped her babbling. "It's alright, baby. Don't sweat it."

Kurt couldn't help the double-take at the endearment, but any awkwardness was pushed past when Sam spoke up.

"I'll give the blessing a try, if you don't mind?" They all nodded, and he smiled, sending a wink to Rachel as he added, "It's not quite that traditional, but here goes." He paused and took a breath before saying, "God, we thank you for this meal, and for the time we have together. Please continue to bless us, and protect those who aren't with us today. In your name, Amen."

"Amen," the others chorused, and Kurt let out a sigh of relief.

"Well, there's the hard part over with," he laughed.

Quinn rolled her eyes as she started passing out plates.

"No," she shook her head. "The hard part will be the clean-up afterwards. I don't know if you remembered, but Sam, here, is a _very_ messy eater."

"I resent that," Sam replied in turn, but he was grinning as he loaded up his own plate.

"That reminds me," Kurt frowned and turned back to the cupboards. "I have cloth napkins somewhere in here."

"I'll handle it, Kurt," Rachel smiled at him and pulled a lock of Sunny's hair as she passed, causing the toddler to giggle and burrow her face into Kurt's side. "Why don't you get our little princess situated?"

"Of course," he nodded, and led the three-year-old over to the coffee table. "Where do you want to sit, baby?"

"Next to you!" she said immediately and he grinned.

"Well, I'll be here at the end," he gestured to a velvet green pillow at the 'head' of the table, and led her to the plush pink one kitty-corner to it. "So you can sit here, and I'll get you a plate, okay, baby?"

"Thank you, Daddy," she grinned up at him and tugged at his shirt until he was bent low enough that she could reach up and brush a kiss to his cheek. "You're my favorite."

"I thought I was your favorite, Sunny."

They both looked up to see Brittany pouting prettily, and Kurt smothered his smile as Sunny explained calmly, "You're my _other_ favorite, Mommy. You and Daddy both."

"Oh. That's good, then. Can I sit next to you then?"

"Of course, Mommy," she replied, sounding almost magnanimous as she added, "Have a seat."

"Glad we got that figured out," Kurt mumbled, before saying again, "I'll get you a plate, okay, baby?"

She waved him off as she shuffled close to where the tall blonde was sitting beside her, and he wondered if he could trust the two girls to not make a mess. He could already see Brittany offering the toddler a bite from her own plate and having the spoonful --or forkful, or even _hand_ ful, though he shuddered at the last thought-- and having the contents of said spoon falling short to the ground. Sighing, he turned back to the table full of food and then laughed.

Sam and Brittany had made a pretty big dent in the sweet potatoes, he saw, and half the dressing was gone as well.

"Leave some for the rest of us, why don't you," he teased as Sam walked by, but the blonde only grinned in reply, and Kurt began making a plate with toddler-size portions for Sunny.

He had set the plate before the little girl, leaving her to poke at the cranberry jelly in fascination and was just starting to fill up his own plate when he felt a vibration in his pocket. He set down the serving spoon for the mashed potatoes --and what was he thinking, having two kinds of potatoes on the table? Was he trying to get fat or something?-- and made sure his plate was balanced carefully in his right hand before fishing out his phone with his left.

A wide grin crossed his face as he saw it was from Blaine. The message itself was simple, just _Happy Thanksgiving!_ but Kurt felt a warmth welling up inside at the fact that the other boy was thinking of him.

"That from your boyfriend?"

His hand tensed around the phone and he scowled up at Quinn, who was smirking at him from across the table as she dished up her own plate. He was surprised to see a few of the vegan choices included; he knew for a fact that turkey was her favorite meat, and that she couldn't go a day without something dairy. Had Rachel already converted her? But no, there was a large slab of white meat on her plate as well, so perhaps she was just broadening her horizons.

"I don't think I've seen you that happy over a text like, ever."

Kurt sighed and shook his head.

"He's not my boyfriend, Q, you _know_ that."

"So it _was_ from Blaine," she grinned, and he rolled his eyes.

"Yes, not that it's any of your business. He just said 'happy Thanksgiving,' is all."

"And are you gonna say it back?"

"Of course I--"

"Hey, is that from Blaine?" Rachel interrupted, looking over Quinn's shoulder at the phone in his hand, and he gritted his teeth a moment.

_They're not trying to gang up on you_ , he told himself. _They're just naturally obnoxious._

"And knowing that helps so much," he muttered, though he was starting to smile before he answered, "Yes, Rachel, it's from Blaine. He wished us a happy Thanksgiving."

" _All_ of us, or just _you_?" she asked pointedly and he blushed at the insinuation.

"I have no idea. It was just a generic greeting, so I'm sure he--"

"Why don't you send him a picture of our Thanksgiving dinner?" she suggested. "Make him jealous of what he doesn't have."

"I'm sure he's having a very nice dinner of his own, Rachel. I don't know if you noticed his clothes on Saturday, but someone who wears a ninety dollar Marc Jacobs sweater on a casual visit probably gets his turkey dinner flown in from Maine, with five types of dinner forks to choose from."

"Why, Kurt Hummel, I do believe you're stereotyping," Rachel gasped, and he flushed, part in exasperation, part in guilt. She was right, of course. Just because the man was obviously wealthy didn't mean a thing. For all he knew, Blaine's family could have a nice, cozy sit-down prepared, like Kurt had had back in Ohio with his dad, stepmom and Finn.

"Fine. The man has stale turkey and eats with plastic forks." Quinn laughed as he went on, "If things are so bad, why should I tempt him with my own genius creation?"

"God, and I thought _I_ was a drama queen," Rachel teased before saying gently, "You don't have to send him anything, Kurt. I just think it would be a cute, quirky addition to the generic ' _Thanks, you, too_ ,' reply."

Kurt groaned, grumbling something along the lines of "Damn you, Rachel, and your weird holiday logic," before pressing the photo reply button on his phone and snapping a picture of the table.

_Happy Thanksgiving to you, too!_ he typed out. _Eat, drink, and be merry! ;)_

He clicked send and stuffed the phone back in his pocket so he could finish filling his plate.

"There," he said aloud. "Happy, now?"

"Ecstatic," Rachel preened before tugging Quinn away to the coffee table, and he laughed a little at the dynamic the two had. Crazy as it all seemed, he was starting to believe that they were the real deal. Of course, the honeymoon stage wouldn't last forever, but even during that stage with Finn, Kurt couldn't remember seeing her that elated and full of joy. _God, I hope this works out_ , he thought.

His musings were interrupted by Sunny's querying voice.

"Daddy, are you coming to sit down? Uncle Sam's trying to steal my sweet 'tatoes."

"Why, I never!"

"Good grief," Kurt muttered, but he was grinning as he turned away from the table and walked into the living area. "I'm coming, I'm coming," he said. "And Sam, seriously? Back off. She's three."

He lost Sam's protest in the sound of Brittany's defense of Sunny, and Kurt's grin widened as he sat down and surveyed his crazy, beautiful, mixed-up family.


	22. Chapter 22

Something between a laugh and a groan escaped Blaine's lips as he looked at the text he had gotten from Kurt. The laugh was for the _Eat, drink and be merry!_ because seriously? Even he didn't talk like that. The groan, on the other hand, was for the picture that was attached. Turkey, dressing, sweet potatoes and more...Blaine groaned again as he looked down at the plate of grilled cheese in front of him.

It wasn't that he couldn't have afforded to get something more; as weird as things sometimes were between him and his father, he still got a decent-sized allowance every month that he was in school, as long as he kept his grades up, of course. With his roommates gone for the holiday, though, and the tacit agreement that he not come home except during summers, it didn't make sense to do anything extravagant and so he fell back on tradition.

Growing up in the Anderson household meant growing up with mostly-absent parents. As the surprise baby that he was, being eight years younger than his older brother, his mother had doted on him, but even his admittedly irresistible cuteness couldn't compete with the will of Theodore Anderson, who had made it known on more than one occasion that there was no need for a second son and his existence was superfluous, and so most holidays found Blaine alone with only a maid --a lovely young girl named Brigitte-- for company while his parents and Cooper went out to some society function.

When he was older and realized just how warped their parents were, Cooper's hero-worship of their father disappeared and he had been keen to apologize to Blaine and show him that he cared, but by that point in time, Blaine was already quite happy with the routine he and Brigitte had fallen into for holidays: Blaine would put together the grilled cheese sandwiches, cooking them under the older girl's supervision while she made the most delicious tomato soup ever, and then they would sit down and watch Disney's _Cinderella_ , of whom Blaine swore up and down Brigitte was the spitting image.

The older he got, the longer an attention span he had, and as the years went by, one movie turned into two, which turned into three, which turned into marathons that would sometimes span an entire weekend, depending, of course, of whether or not his parents were simply across town or across the country. He had no misconceptions on where his love of Disney came from; he had sung along to every song with Brigitte, who, despite being rather tone-deaf herself, encouraged his love for the music, and it was to her that he first played _'A dream is a wish your heart makes'_ on the grand piano in the foyer when he was six years old.

Holidays were probably the best times he had had at home, even if his family was absent, and looking back, Blaine decided he wouldn't change a thing.

This year, however, was the first year that he was all alone. Cooper was filming for some murder mystery show, his parents were once again out of town --not to mention his father wouldn't want his company anyway, Jake was dining with Santana and her family ( _"I'm telling you, dude, she totally loves me."_ ), his other roommates were MIA as usual, and though he might have the money to go home if he wanted, to be perfectly honest, it was more than a little ridiculous to go home to spend time with a maid who now had a family of her own and was probably loving having holidays off now that Blaine was at school.

And really, so what if he was all alone on Thanksgiving? He was a big boy, he could take care of himself...

And he really did make a mean grilled cheese sandwich.

That didn't stop him from salivating as he looked again at the picture Kurt had sent him, and he texted back, _Looks delicious, I'm jealous._

Though Kurt was probably eating himself, Blaine had barely taken a bite of his own food before he got a response.

_Don't tell me you people think turkey is too unoriginal and have something weird like sushi or pizza._

He laughed at the thought of his parents indulging in either of those things. Of course, sushi could be refined, he knew, but he somehow had the feeling Kurt was referring to a sushi bar more than restaurant.

I wish, he responded, and snapped a photo of his partially eaten sandwich to send along.

Another quick response made him laugh out loud.

_I take it your mother's not much of a cook?_

"I wouldn't know, actually," he said aloud and shook his head.

Celia Anderson wasn't a bad mother, exactly. Sure, she followed his father around like a dog on a leash and by so doing would inadvertently ignore her youngest child; but when Blaine had her attention, he had all of it. She was bright and warm and had helped a great deal when he had come out almost eight years ago in protecting him from his father's disgust. Of course, her helping often meant distracting him with another party and leaving Blaine all alone, but he could see the love in her eyes when she looked at him, and he couldn't begrudge her her sometimes unhealthy fixation with his father.

That love, however, didn't translate to the domestic side of motherhood. It wasn't she who had taught him how to do his own laundry, nor was it she who helped him learn how to fend for himself in the kitchen. He wasn't sure if it was because she didn't know how to do those things herself, or if she simply didn't have the time. After all, what was a house full of maids for if not to do all the more 'plebeian' tasks of the house?

Such philosophical questions were a bit much for a text message, though, so Blaine settled for the simple facts.

_Mother is at some function with my father in Boston._

_You mean they left you_ alone _on the_ holiday _? What kind of cruel parents would do that to their own kid?_

He chuckled a little bit at the reply; he could see the outrage on Kurt's face, and it warmed his heart to know that he cared, even if only in the simplest of ways.

_I'm afraid it's even worse that that, he typed out, a grin spreading across his face. I'm solo mio in Montana this holiday. :)_

He grin faltered and he blinked as he hit send.

_Solo mio_? What the hell?

"God, you're a dork," he muttered, and then jumped as his phone vibrated in his hand. And then kept vibrating. "What the..."

He blinked as Kurt's name flashed on his caller id along with the picture he had secretly taken when he was talking to Rachel last weekend.

"You're such a creeper," he said to himself, and then pressed accept.

The 'hello' barely passed his lips before Kurt started in.

"Blaine Anderson, what do you mean you're all by yourself? What kind of parents leave their kid to starve on Thanksgiving? And grilled cheese? _Seriously_? I could do better than that. In fact, I did. You get your butt over here and help yourself to some supper, because heaven knows we've got plenty. Though Sam and Britt are making a pretty good dent, but Rachel's vegan, you know, so she won't eat half of it, and I don't know about Quinn, but Sunny, she's just a baby, so _obviously_ she can't eat much. And the parade is playing on the TV and I think we're watching football afterwards, though I shudder at the thought, and--"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Blaine finally cut in, a wide smile creeping across his face. "Kurt. Did you just invite me over for your Thanksgiving dinner?"

"I--" Kurt paused, and Blaine could almost see the blush creep across his face as he took in a slow breath, and his smile widened further. "Yes. Yes, I did. You're in your dorm, right? So are we. Come over." He then added, "Please."

"Well, since you said please..."

"Blaine."

"I'm on my way," he replied, standing and moving to put his half-eaten sandwich in the refrigerator. "Should I bring something along?"

"Just your funny, sunny self."

"Absolutely," he laughed, grabbing his coat, and heading out the door.

~ + ~ + ~ + ~

"Again, again, again!"

Blaine couldn't help but laugh at the little girl bouncing on his lap as the end of _Cinderella_ played on the screen they sat in front of.

When he had mentioned the old tradition to Kurt, he had been attacked --or at least caught up in a human sandwich-- by Sunny and Brittany with demands to watch the old Disney film now, _now_ , **NOW**. The others in the room, while clearly laughing at the two girls, had chimed in their agreement, and he had dashed back to his room and settled for grabbing the boxful of DVDs rather than trying to pick out one from the unorganized mess. The moment he had pulled out _Cinderella_ upon his return, though, Rachel had commented on how _Beauty and the Beast_ was much more musically complex, and had started on a rant about the Broadway show versus the original Disney production, but had cut herself short when Quinn took her hand and suggested they sit down and enjoy the show. The blush that rose suited the diminutive girl quite well, and Blaine, though surprised at the relationship between the two, especially when he had realized who Quinn was --he had seen her around campus a few times, but never spoken with her personally, thought he had never seen a cuter couple.

At Sunny's bubbling demand, Rachel chimed in again, "Princess, don't you think we should give the _other_ Disney princesses a chance?"

"Rachel," Kurt said simply, a wealth of warning in his tone to not push it, and Blaine struggled not to grin as he watched the dynamic play out amidst Kurt and his family members.

"What?" she returned, wide-eyed and so innocent looking that he _almost_ believed she was. "I'm not saying it has to be Belle, but even Pocahontas or Rapunzel, Tiana, Jasmine...and Aurora, sure she slept her way to happily ever after, but she was a _coloratura_ , Kurt. She deserves praise just for that."

"I'm not sure I'd classify her as coloratura..."

"Please, Kurt, I know what I'm talking about."

He raised a brow but only nodded, before a smirk appeared on his face.

"And what about Snow White?" Kurt simpered, and Rachel looked like she was going to be sick at the suggestion while Quinn laughed.

"Do _not_ mention that _heinous_...I mean, _God_ , Kurt, I could sing better than that when I was _two_."

"Daddy, what's hay-us?" Sunny frowned, and Kurt corrected gently, " _Heinous_. It means yucky, baby. Aunt Rachel doesn't like Snow White's singing."

"I think she's pretty," Brittany said simply, and Sunny nodded emphatically while Rachel groaned.

"Kurt, _what_ have you been teaching these girls?"

"That it's perfectly okay to have your own opinion about things," he smiled, and she scowled at him.

"Hey, what about Mulan?" Sam put in from his seat on the floor. "She's pretty bad-ass."

"And _not_ a princess, Sam," Rachel scoffed. "She doesn't even marry a prince."

"She _almost_ does, in the second film," Blaine interjected, and they all turned to him in surprise. "Um, so I've watched all of the movies, sequels included?"

Before any of them could think of how to reply to that statement, Sunny turned around in his lap and put her hands upon his face gently, and Blaine felt his eyes widen as she looked up at him, a serious look of contemplation on her face.

"Um, Sunny, baby, what are you--" Kurt began when she spoke.

"Do you have _Robin Hood_? The real one? That's Daddy's favorite. And Maid Marian, she could be a princess," she nodded at her own statement, and Blaine felt a smile creeping across his face only to still as he looked up and saw that all eyes were on him.

"Um..." he blinked and told himself to focus his gaze on the little girl as he replied, "Yes, Sunny, I _do_ have that one. And I always counted Maid Marian as a princess myself, too," he added, his tone conspiratory, and Sunny grinned, her eyes bright and beautiful, and if Blaine hadn't been in love with the little girl before, he definitely was now.

"I'll get it from the box," she offered, hopping off his lap. "I remember what it looks like."

As she dashed off, Blaine became aware once more of all the eyes turned on him, and he blushed awkwardly.

"So..."

"You're about the cutest thing I've ever seen," Rachel gushed suddenly, and Blaine laughed in surprise.

"You've definitely got that girl wrapped around your finger," Quinn smirked a little, and he shrugged before looking at Kurt.

"I'd have figured you had that one yourself," he began, remembering that conversation from when he had first come over, and Kurt blushed a little himself. He almost didn't catch Kurt's words, so taken was he with the way the color splashed across his cheekbones, and the light in those stormy eyes of his.

"We watched it a lot this summer, and, well, we kind of wore out the DVD."

Blaine couldn't help but laugh, and grinned wide as Kurt's blush deepened.

"Lucky for you, then, that I've got that one."

"Whatever," he rolled his eyes. "Just don't get any ideas about singing along with Friar Tuck when he comes on."

"Hey. Did I sing to _Cinderella_?"

Kurt opened his mouth, and then shut it with a frown. "No. You didn't. Did he?" he turned to ask Rachel, and she shrugged.

"I didn't hear a thing."

Blaine noticed a smirk forming, and saw that Kurt had noticed it, too, but before either of them could question her, Sunny ran up to Blaine, DVD in hand, a bright smile on her face as she proclaimed, "I found it, Blaine, I found it!"

"Good job, Galinda," he grinned, and her eyes sparkled as she laughed and handed the case to him. "So is everyone okay with _Robin Hood_?"

"That's fine with me," Quinn smiled, pulling Rachel in close, and Rachel nodded as she blushed afresh.

"Just let me get some more of those potatoes, and I'll join you," Sam began as he stood and headed for the kitchen.

"Ooh, I want some more turkey," Brittany gasped, following him, and Kurt called after her, "Don't eat so much you get sick, Britt!"

"Duh, Kurt," she rolled her eyes at him, and Kurt grinned, and Blaine felt his own lips curve as he knelt by the DVD player to put in the disc.

He had changed up his tradition this year: turkey instead of grilled cheese, football and live-action flicks instead of all cartoons, Kurt instead of Brigitte. And Blaine had never had a better Thanksgiving in his entire life.


	23. Chapter 23

"So you really like Blaine, huh?"

"What on earth are you talking about, Rachel?"

Kurt clasped his tongue between his lips as he struggled to focus on fixing the hem of the yellow sundress that he wanted Sunny to wear at church the next day. Though Brittany claimed it was simply the regular wear and tear of daily life, Kurt had a feeling it had happened during one of their impromptu dance sessions earlier that week. He didn't fuss, though. If Brittany was up to a dance session, he wasn't going to do anything to disabuse her of the notion.

"Maybe Quinn was right about that dance party idea," he muttered, knotting the thread as he finished the last stitch, and he held the dress up for assessment. "That look good to you?"

"Kurt, are you even listening to me?" she scowled and he sighed.

"Look who I'm talking to. A girl who used to wear sweaters with animals on them all the time. Never mind, I'll ask Quinn when she gets here. Which reminds me, will she be staying for dinner again? Or--"

" _Kurt_."

He sighed again and set the dress aside before he turned to face Rachel where she sat on his bed. He had invaded the bedroom early, intent on doing a little sewing and mending, and he had long-since learned that Brittany couldn't be trusted with his sewing kit. After the sixth pricked finger, he had banned her from any needlework and stashed his supplies away in his closet. Rachel had only fussed a little when he woke her --it was almost ten when he had knocked on the door-- and she was now perched on the edge of the bed, hair pulled back in a messy ponytail and practically drowning in what he was certain was Finn's shirt, unless Rachel had suddenly become interested in the Ohio State Buckeyes.

"What does it matter to you if I really like Blaine?"

"Well, it doesn't, of course," she said primly, smoothing out the hem of the shirt. A small smile crossed her lips as she went on, "But you seemed pretty interested in how Blaine wasn't singing on Thursday--"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"And instead of your annual Black Friday celebration, you spent almost all day yesterday with him. You even took him to see _The Nutcracker_ with the girls."

"That's just--"

"And he's coming over for dinner again tonight, isn't he?"

" _First_ of all," he gritted out, "If I _was_ interested in his singing --and I'm not saying yea or nay to that-- it's only because he told me he knows all the Disney songs, and I was just surprised when I realized he wasn't singing along. _Second_ , I haven't had a real Black Friday 'celebration,' as you call it, in years. For all intents and purposes, Rachel, I am a single father. With _two_ kids, because I'm pretty much the only thing taking care of Brittany since her parents kicked her out. I've been broke for years, and I only went out last year because my dad insisted that I needed a new computer and handed me his credit card before pushing me out the door. And _The Nutcracker_ was to make Brittany feel better after the whole Peter/Eddie thing, which worked _fabulously_ , I might add. Blaine just tagged along because _Brittany_ asked him to, _not me_. And _third_ , Blaine is alone on a holiday weekend. Did you think I would just let him wallow in solitude when I knew that? For God's sake, I'm not that cruel."

Rachel's eyes were wide as she stared at him, and she had paled under the force of his tirade.

"Kurt. I'm sorry, I--"

"And I won't be here anyway, Rachel, you know that. I'm working at the coffee shop tonight. The only way I'll actually see Blaine myself tonight is if he stays late and is here when I get back." He frowned a little at the thought, but shook his head. It really didn't matter if he saw the younger man or not. They were just friends, after all. "And before you ask, he's coming over when I'm not here because Brittany has an extra cheer practice tonight, and I wanted you and Quinn to have some time to yourselves tonight, whether you decide to stay in or go out, so he's going to watch Sunny."

She looked a little nonplussed at that, and then a small smile crossed her lips, and she blushed.

"That was very nice of you."

"You're welcome."

"Though we're not really at a dating stage, you know. I mean, I haven't even _kissed_ her yet."

He frowned as he looked at her and cocked his head to the side in contemplation.

"Now _that_ is surprising. Why not? I mean, I'm still a little weirded out at this whole thing, but even I can see that you two are pretty much perfect for each other. So what's stopping you from making a move?"

"It was a joint decision," she said primly. "Pushing aside from the bizarreness of our meeting, neither of us has ever even _thought_ about a girl, let alone _kissed_ one. Besides it's been a week and a half. There's no need to rush things, and I really think that--"

"Wait, wait, wait," he cut her off, his frown growing. "What do you mean you've never kissed a girl? You were _Maureen_ , for God's sake. I realize that _RENT_ is perhaps a little risqué sometimes, but you were performing in New York. _Nothing_ is so sacred there that you can't do everything in that show."

"I know," she shrugged, "but the girl that was cast as Joanne was super uptight and religious, and said she wasn't going to kiss me except in performance."

"What a bitch," he dead-panned, and Rachel laughed.

"Yeah, well, she has a pretty great voice, so the director didn't fuss."

"She's probably a closeted lesbian herself," Kurt mused and Rachel rolled her eyes.

"Because _every_ homophobe is secretly gay. You're so smart, Kurt, I don't know why I didn't realize that myself before..."

"You can shut up any time now," he warned her, before asking, "So does the thought of kissing Quinn repulse you, then? I mean, this is your first Sapphic experience."

"No," she shook her head adamantly, the ponytail coming looser, and she met his gaze straight-on. "I'm not repulsed at all. Actually, it's kind of hot thinking about it," she added in a whisper, and he grimaced.

"And now we went too far."

"Sorry," she grinned, clearly not sorry at all, and he shook his head.

"So you're just nervous, then. Well, that's simple."

"Ha," she barked out a laugh. "There is nothing simple about wanting to _kiss_ Lucy."

"I don't mean it's going to be _easy_ ," he told her. "I mean that because neither of you have any experience, that it's _simple_ because you can learn it together."

"But what if I move too fast? Or too slow? She'll totally hate me, and stop coming to visit me, and then the dreams are sure to stop, too, and I just don't think that I can--"

"Hold on, Rach," he interrupted, taking the hands that she had started to flail about in her growing rant and holding them in his own as he sat down beside her. "First, breathe. You're going to hyperventilate if you don't calm down." He waited a moment as she did so, and a small smile curved his lips. "And second, you need to stop freaking out. Now obviously, I know the Quinn side better than the Lucy side that you do, so I can't say I know everything going through her head. But one thing I know for sure is that Quinn is _nothing_ if not genuine. You know she was our counselor before she became our friend?" Rachel nodded, rubbing at watery eyes, and he went on. "Well, we never would have stuck with her, or let the relationship grow, if she wasn't one of the most honest and loyal people that I've ever met. She cares about us, Rach, but she's not afraid to tell it like it is, either. And if she didn't care about us, about _you_ , she would flat-out _tell_ you so."

"Yeah," Rachel sniffed. "I know. She even told me yesterday that though she loved the style of my shirt, she absolutely _hated_ the color."

"Well, not many people can pull off 'Hulk-green' aside from the man himself," he mused, and she laughed, the sound a bit watery, but genuine, at least. "Though I have to say, and God help me for going too far myself, but it seemed to me that she was looking less at the shirt and more at the way it fit you," he added, and she blushed at the notion.

"Don't be ridiculous, Kurt," she retorted, but she was grinning, and he smiled in return before asking, "So, you're worried about the physical side of things. Have you _talked_ to her about this?"

"Come _on_ , Kurt," she rolled her eyes. "Lucy and I talk about _everything_. We've talked about our first loves, what we wanted to be when we were kids, what we think of the economy, how we voted last election, the pros and cons of turkey versus tofu--"

"Have you talked to her about _this_ , though?"

Rachel went quiet and Kurt sighed.

"I thought not."

"It's not that we haven't...I mean, when we found each other last week, everything was just so overwhelming, and surprising, and we decided that until we figured things out, we'd settle for just holding hands, taking things slow."

"Except, strange as this whole thing is, you've known her since you were a child, Rachel, and I can only assume she's known you just as long. You've already ascertained that you're soulmates, so what's holding you back? What are you _really_ scared of?"

Rachel extricated her hands from his grasp and stood slowly. Kurt watched as she paced the length of the room a few times, and smiled. She had changed so much, from the whiny, know-it-all diva she was at the beginning of high school to the serious, still-a-diva, mature young woman she was now. She didn't jump into things without thought like she used to, and though she still had meltdowns, they were over more serious things than who got to sing a solo in glee club that week. He might even go so far as to say that she was finally an adult.

"What if I'm a bad kisser?"

Or maybe that was going _too_ far, he thought and sighed.

"Rachel, are you really freaking out over the quality of your _kisses_?"

"Well, I--"

"Has Finn ever complained about your kissing ability?" he asked, and she frowned.

"Well, no, but--"

"What about when you were dating Jesse St. James? Did _he_ complain?"

"Well, he _did_ give me notes, but that was more--"

"And that little fling you had with that Brody kid freshman year? What about him?"

"Oh, god, don't even mention him."

"Just think about it, Rachel," he insisted. "Three admittedly hot guys, and none of them said you were a bad kisser."

"But Lucy's a _girl_."

"And you think you kiss a girl any different? You think that I would kiss a boy any different than I kissed Brittany?"

"Oh, like you've ever actually kissed a boy," she retorted, and he flushed and glared at her.

"Well, if you're going to be mean, I think I'll just take my leave," he snapped, standing and heading for the door, only pausing to grab up the sundress from where he had set it aside.

" _Kurt_ ," Rachel began, but he shook his head as he reached the hallway.

"No. I'm not going to listen to you whine and moan and then _insult me_ when I try to give you some advice. That's a little too close to sophomore year for comfort," he bit out and stalked down the hallway to the living area where Brittany and Sunny were playing what he thought might be poker on the floor.

"Britt, you're not teaching her to gamble, are you?" he asked, eyes narrowed as he knelt beside them.

"Of course not, Kurt," the blonde shook her head. "I'm teaching her how to count cards."

He blinked at her, not quite certain if she were serious or not --Brittany might not always makes sense, but she had a pretty wicked set of skills in her backpocket, which included but was not limited to speaking fluent Russian, being able to make homemade vanilla ice cream, and having a strange knowledge of cats and anything that might relate to them. And, possibly, how to count cards.

"Well." He frowned, wondering how he might handle this, and said, "Maybe you should teach her _Go Fish_ instead? I mean, she's a bit young for anything else."

"But Daddy, I _like_ this game," Sunny pouted, and Brittany nodded up at him, a matching pout on her face, and he thought, _Oh god, they're teaming up on me_.

It was bad enough when Brittany pulled a face; he had been a sucker for her tears from day one, no matter the sometimes disastrous consequences that led to. But to have those same beautiful blue eyes staring up at him from their daughter's face? He couldn't win.

He had to try, though, so he began again, "How about--" only to be interrupted by Rachel's, " _Kurt_ , wait up."

He couldn't help the scowl that crossed his face, and decided there were worse things than a daughter who might potentially end up on the FBI's most-wanted list someday. He stood from where he was kneeling and folded the dress, placing it neatly on the coffee table.

"Britt, I'm going to go out for a walk before my shift, okay? You think you can handle lunch?"

"Peanut butter and jelly?" she asked, wide-eyed, and he laughed and nodded.

"Sounds good to me. Oh, and I bought some bananas, too, so maybe..."

"Peanut butter, jelly and banana sandwiches!" she squealed, and Sunny stood up and started jumping up and down.

"Yay, yay, yay, yay, yay!" she cried and Kurt grinned as he knelt down and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Only the best for you, baby," he whispered, and she grinned up at him in return.

"Kurt, _please_."

His grin shifted and he started toward the door.

"I might just go straight to work, Brittany, but Blaine will be here at three to help out, and I left instructions for dinner on the fridge, and you have all my numbers in case something happens, okay?"

He glanced back at Brittany as he finished and noted her looking from him to Rachel and back again, but she didn't say anything about the obvious tension between them and only smiled.

"Okay, Kurt. Have a good day. I love you."

He somehow found a smile, and his eyes softened as he said, "Love you, too, hon."

He grabbed a jacket then, and walked out the door, almost missing Rachel's, " _Kurt_ , I'm _sorry_!"


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Homophobic slurring in the form of graffiti

_Oh, like you've ever actually kissed a boy._

_Like you've ever actually kissed a boy._

_Ever actually kissed a boy._

_Kissed a boy._

_A boy._

Kurt scowled as Rachel's words echoed in his head, and he shook it off as he swept behind the counter of _The Tipsy Bean_. The coffee shop was empty now, the last few customers having trickled out a few minutes ago, and though they were technically open until midnight, Kurt saw no harm in cleaning things up a little early. The faster he was out of here, the faster he could get home and crawl into the bed beside his girls, and just dream all the stress away.

He admitted, if only to himself, that his walkout earlier that day had been a little immature. He knew Rachel hadn't really meant what she said; she was just nervous about her relationship with Quinn, and he figured she had a right to be. But after her pushing about Blaine, he couldn't handle the comeback of the annoying sophomore that thought she knew everything. And the hell of it was, she was absolutely right on both counts.

He _did_ like Blaine, and was perhaps in a worse place with him than she was with Quinn, because they hadn't even discussed the _possibility_ of dating. Which was ridiculous anyway, because as much as he liked Blaine and as friendly as the younger man had been, there was no way that he wanted to have a romantic relationship with a twenty-one-year-old with a three year old and a girlfriend who might as well have been another daughter, all things considered. He could do so much better, he _deserved_ so much better, and anything that Kurt tried to do against that would be nothing less than presumptuous.

"Kurt!"

He was jolted out of his thoughts by the voice, and he turned to see the assistant manager walking toward him.

"Ms Lacey," he nodded. "Kinda died out, didn't it?"

"Holiday weekend," the older lady shrugged. "It happens." She brushed a radish-red curl out of her face and smiled. "Gives me more time to spend with you, sweet thing."

He blushed at the term, but knew she didn't mean a thing by it. She was well aware of his situation, and had been the bearer of bad news to several dreamy-eyed young co-eds who had asked about him over the course of the last several months he had been here.

"So how'd you do in tips, kid?"

"No clue," he shrugged. "I'll count 'em later."

"Kurt, you need to be more mercenery," she sighed. "The dollar is _king_."

"I thought that was Elvis," he raised a brow and she grinned.

"And this is why I keep you around."

"I'm pretty sure you keep me around because you're hoping that Brittany and Sunny will stop by during my shift and you can spoil my daughter with chocolate cake."

"Nonsense," she waved him off and started toward the register. "You got one of them iPhone contraptions?"

"'Contraptions,' Lace? You're not even thirty, you shouldn't talk like that."

"I'll talk however I like, young man," she sniffed, though her green eyes were sparkling, and he rolled his in turn.

"Of course you will. And no, I don't. I am one of the forgotten few that hasn't even advanced to the Smart Phone Age."

"No kidding? Well, that's alright. We can use a sheet of paper instead. Pull up a stool, kid."

He frowned a little as he dragged a stool over to the counterspace beside her while she pulled a piece of white printer paper from below the register.

"What's up?"

"I'd like to discuss your schedule, if you don't mind."

He stilled at her words; she couldn't _possibly_ be cutting his hours more, could she? What did she want to do, switch him to one of those pathetic four-hour shifts? He knew it was a little weird that he only worked every other weekend, but they had agreed to this when his classes had started up after the summer. If she was worried that it wasn't worth keeping him on, she only had to look around to see how spic and span he kept the place while on duty. Maybe if he showed her the back-up grinder that he had pretty much sandblasted to within an inch of its life so it now shone as if brand-new, she would reconsider.

"I'd like to bring you up to at least twenty-five hours over the winter break."

Wait, what?

"What? You're _not_ cutting my hours?"

Lacey threw back her head and laughed.

"Lord, no. What would I do? Switch you to one of those pathetic four-hour shifts?"

Kurt couldn't help but laugh, and relaxed into his seat.

"You're right, that's ridiculous. I don't know what I was thinking."

"If you'd help yourself to some of the caffeine you're surrounded by, you might be faster on your feet, kid."

"And then I'd be wired and crazy, just like you," he teased, and she grinned before sketching out a quick calendar on the paper.

"So you are staying in town over the break, yes?"

"What else is there?" he shrugged and she rolled her eyes.

"Oh, I don't know. Travel, family, holiday traditions..."

"I'm making my own holiday traditions this year," he answered, and she smiled up at him before marking several dates.

"Well, I'm glad you are, because over half of my staff is leaving me. I wasn't kidding when I said 'at least twenty-five hours,' Kurt. You might even be working a couple forties, if you're up for it, of course."

"Oh, I'm definitely up for it. That's fantastic," he grinned, before perusing the make-shift calendar before him. "Well, the first through fifth is my finals week, but I think our last actual final between Britt and I is Thursday morning, so I can work anytime after noon that day. Oh, and I'm planning a little Christmas celebration on the nineteenth."

"You inviting me?" she asked archly, and he returned, "Do I have that day off?"

She smiled, and marked a large 'X' through the nineteenth.

"Done."

"Done."

"And we're closed the twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth anyway. We _are_ open New Year's, but I'm sure I can wrangle the old folks into those shifts."

Kurt snorted at her words. The 'old folks' she spoke of were, in fact, her parents, who had a fifty-percent share in the store, and would likely throw a fit that their own New Year's celebrations had to be cancelled.

"You sure you want to do that?" he asked. "I mean, from what I hear, _last_ year's New Year's Eve party was quite a hoot. I heard Missy and Travis stayed up until almost three in the morning."

"It'll be fine," she nodded. "I mean, they would _kill_ me if I closed shop, and if I told them that it was poor, sweet Kurt that had to pick up the shift--"

"'Poor, sweet Kurt?' _Really_ , Lace?"

She only grinned and drew another big 'X' over the two days.

"And when does class start up again in January?"

"Um, I think the first Monday? But cross your fingers that it's the second, because I could use the stock-pile these extra hours will get me."

"And I could use your sixth sense on cleaning," she returned, and folded up the calendar and handed it to him. "We'll figure out January hours later, then. If you're bored on any days not marked, give me a call in the morning, and I'm sure I can fit you in. And don't worry about overtime, kid. You're one of the hardest workers here, and you're worth it."

He smiled warmly at her and then looked down at his wrist as the alarm sounded.

"And there we have midnight," he grinned. "Shall we?"

"Go turn off the sign," she nodded. "I'll count down the drawer while you finish sweeping up in here, okay?"

"Sounds good to me," he saluted smartly, and she rolled her eyes before waving him off.

It was less than fifteen minutes before the place was clean, the blinds drawn, and the trash taken out, and Kurt walked Lacey out to her car.

"Seriously, Kurt, you're _much_ prettier than I am. I should be the one walking you."

"Please," he scoffed. "I could never hope to match your elegance and beauty."

"Pushing for a raise, are you?" He only grinned as he held open her door. "By the way, I realize it's just before your finals week, but if you want to come in next Saturday, we could definitely use you. Had to fire that kid with the pink hair."

"Oh? Do tell."

"The daft fool kept charging low for the large sizes and high for the small sizes. Took me a while to figure out what she was doing wrong, but she kept coming up short in her drawer, and, well..."

"Guess she better go back to kindergarten and learn her numbers."

"I'll say," the woman laughed. "Thanks, Kurt. You take care, now."

"You, too, Lace," he nodded and stepped back as she shut the door and started her engine. He waved a little as she drove off, and then shivered at the sudden gust of wind that passed through the mostly-empty lot. "Geez, it gets cold at night," he muttered to himself as he turned and started toward his car. He had parked toward the edge of the lot, but was just under the last lamp, so he had no worries walking by himself, even so late at night. At least, he didn't until he caught a flash of silver on the navy blue frame, and his steps slowed as he faced the driver's side of the car and saw the word _FAGGOT_ glaring up at him from an otherwise pristine paint job.

~ + ~ + ~ + ~

Brittany's phone went off mid-way through an almost disturbingly cheerful rendition of _Goodbye Until Tomorrow_ and _I Could Never Rescue You_ , and though Blaine was a little shell-shocked at being brought back to the real world, he was relieved, too at the interruption. Brittany was great, but she was a little exhausting, and he didn't know how she had so much energy when it was after midnight and she'd had a three-hour-long cheer practice the evening previously. To be honest, he hadn't planned on staying much longer after she had returned at nine-thirty, but apparently Rachel and Quinn were out for the night -- _still_ out, in fact, which he thought curious, but brushed it aside as really none of his business-- and Brittany, after popping in to sing a lullaby version of _Titanium_ to Sunny, was desperate for company until Kurt came back.

" _Please, please, **please**_?" she had pleaded, and Blaine was starting to think he was just a sucker for blue eyes in general because here he was almost three hours later, with no end to the night in sight.

"Oh!" Brittany gasped and smiled in delight as she looked down at the phone in her hands. The ring was surprisingly generic for the bouncy, bubbly blonde, and he wondered why she didn't choose some bubblegum pop or something like that, when she went on, "It's Kurt."

He had been rising to go get a drink or perhaps even a snack, but he stilled as she answered the phone.

"Hi, Kurt! Are you on your way home?" The thought that he might be seeing the boy that had saved his Thanksgiving brought butterflies to his stomach, and he tensed in anticipation, tensing further when Brittany frowned. "Oh. Are you going shopping for something? If you are, I want some marshmallows. I found some graham crackers and thought we could make s'mores. Though, wait, I think we need chocolate, too. Kurt, can we get some chocolate, please? Or--"

He was a little dizzy trying to follow her, and forced himself up and into the kitchen area as she babbled on. It really didn't matter, Blaine told himself, that Kurt was coming home soon. He wouldn't be spending much time with him anyway before leaving himself. And the fact that Kurt hadn't been here tonight was proof positive that he was just a nice guy who didn't want a friend spending the holiday weekend alone, and nothing more.

Blaine sighed and walked back into the living area, two glasses of water in hand, the exteriors already dripping with condensation as he set them on the coasters on the coffee table.

"No, Rachel's still out," Brittany was saying. "I think she and Quinn are having _lady time_."

He almost choked on laughter as she whispered the last two words, and took a drink.

"No, I'm not alone. Sunny's in bed, and Blaine and I are declaring our love for each other."

He _did_ choke then, and Brittany frowned at him curiously as he gasped and took another drink, because what the _hell_?

"No, Kurt, we can't do _Wicked_ without Sunny. We're doing _The Last Five Years_. It's so pretty, Kurt. And Blaine's voice is like _magic_."

He blinked in surprise at the compliment, but then grinned. If he was going to stick around --and even if the only thing for him here was friendship, he was damn sure going to stick around-- he had better learn to keep up with the blonde better.

"Is that sirens I hear, Kurt?" she asked suddenly, and Blaine leaned forward and asked, "What's going on, Britt?" She frowned at him before her concentration was obviously stolen by the voice on the other end of the line, and she nodded several times, an "Uh-huh," interspersed here and there before saying, "Okay. We'll wait up for you, then. Love you. Uh-huh. Buh-bye."

She shut her phone and frowned down at the table before looking up at Blaine.

"Well?" he pressed when she only stared at him. "What's going on?"

"I think something happened at the coffee store. Kurt said he has to make a placement to the police."

"A placement?" Blaine frowned, and then shook his head. "You mean a _statement_."

"Yeah, that's what I said," she shrugged, still frowning. "He said everything was fine, Blaine, but he didn't _sound_ fine."

Blaine leaned back to appraise the blonde, and a small smile curved his lips. He wondered if Kurt, if _anybody_ , really, realized just how much she saw. She was something special, and anyone who brushed her off was in for a rude awakening. His smile dimmed, then as he pondered the meaning of her words. From what he had seen in previous weeks and these past few days, Blaine knew that Brittany was not only the mother of Kurt's child, but also his friend and confidante. So what had happened that he had to lie to the girl about it? What was he trying to keep from her?

"Perhaps," he began slowly, frowning, but nodding as he came to a decision, "Perhaps I should go. I mean, I don't need to butt in on family matters, and--"

"You _can't_ ," Brittany nearly shouted, and she snatched his hand in hers to stop him from leaving. "Kurt _needs_ us. He needs _you_ , Blaine, I can _feel_ it. You _have_ to stay. _Please_."

Blaine found himself sinking into the bright blue of her eyes, and he nodded, confused by her words, but accepting them for the truth she clearly believed them to be, regardless. She smiled brightly in return, and looked down at the second glass on the table.

"Is this for me?"

"Of course," he shrugged. "I figured you might need to relax your voice after all that singing we've been doing."

"That's very smart, Blaine," she nodded seriously, and he struggled to bite back a grin.

"Thanks. So since we're taking a break from singing, what should we do?" She frowned in contemplation, and he suddenly worried that a simple 'What should we do?' had too many answers that might end up wearing him out even more, so he quickly asked, "Why don't you tell me about school? I don't even know what classes you're in."

Her eyes lit up at that, and she nodded vehemently, her ponytail bouncing in her excitement, and he couldn't hold back the grin as she began, "Well, my absolutely _favorite_ class would have to be..."


	25. Chapter 25

" _Ooh, I get by with a little help from my friends.  
I get high with a little help from my friends.  
Ooh, I get by..._ "

Kurt flipped off the radio and tried to remember some of the breathing techniques from the yoga DVDs he had watched a few weeks ago with Brittany. It didn't take long for him to realize it wasn't working, and he felt his hands clench on the steering wheel as he took the turn into the school parking lot.

Spending Saturday night (or Sunday morning, as he glanced at the clock and saw it was after one) hanging out with officers from the local precinct hadn't exactly made his night. He had been asked so many questions, about who he saw on a daily basis, if he had any enemies or might have offended someone...he had laughed at that last one. In a Christian-Conservative state, there weren't too many he _didn't_ offend, just by existing. But no, there was no one in particular he could think of, and that was perhaps the most daunting idea of all, that it was somebody he didn't even _know_ who could hate him in such a way.

Lacey, whom he had called after dialing the police, had helped him cover the offending word--which happened to be painted on, not scratched, so perhaps he should be thankful that the repair job would be less costly than it might have been--with a piece of tarp from the back room, and forced some hot tea on him before he sat with her and one of the officers who had come by to look at the security videos. He wasn't sure if it was encouraging or not that the perpetrator of the crime had been wearing a neon jacket that was obvious even in the darkness. Was he going to flinch at every splash of neon across his vision now?

Well, it wasn't like anything neon wasn't a crime against fashion anyway, but knowing that it would haunt him on an even deeper level now was far from comforting.

He pulled into the only unoccupied space in the lot and put the car in park, letting the rumbling of the engine serve as soundtrack as he tried to calm himself with all the positives in this situation:

His car only needed a paint job, which, though a hassle, was still relatively inexpensive,comparitively.

He had not been at his car when the perpetrator had decided to deface it, which would probably have resulted in more serious injury than just a tagged car.

His girls had not been with him, and if he didn't bring it up, Brittany wouldn't ask, and wouldn't hurt with him.

Kurt repeated those three things over and over, trying to find another to add to the list, but it wasn't exactly a picnic he was describing. The first responding officer had said that, considering the nature of the crime, the relative lack of fuss with which it was committed, the perp probably was more of a coward than anything else, and so Kurt shouldn't worry about a face-to-face attack. Having pushed against stereotypes and being put in boxes all his life, Kurt wasn't too relieved at the assessment; what if this guy was simply starting 'small' before moving on to bigger offenses?

With a sigh, Kurt shut the engine off and rubbed his hands over his face. He couldn't stay out here worrying over things he had no control over. And Brittany, bless her heart, was probably still up, waiting for him to come home so she could make sure he was okay. He had brushed off most of her concern when he'd called her to let her know he'd be late, but he knew he would have to at least give her _something_ concerning his talking to the police. Maybe he'd tell her there was a car accident outside the coffee shop that he had witnessed. It was a stretch, but he could at least truthfully say that he hadn't been directly involved in the incident.

_Except it's_ your _car, kid_ , a voice that sounded suspiciously like his dad whispered, and he cursed. What was he going to tell his dad next time he called? The older man had given the stipulation that Kurt could move away if he let him help, and part of that help took the form of paying for his car insurance. What if this incident caused his premium to go up? Or worse, what if his dad decided it was too dangerous for him to be so far away? Never mind that Kurt was an adult and that even in places like New York or San Francisco there were still people with hate in their hearts. It had been practically World War III in the Hummel household, first when Kurt had said he was leaving the state, second when he saw he was going to Montana, of all places. Kurt had argued that it couldn't be any worse than Lima, Ohio, and to date, it had actually been better. With this incident, though, it had just sunk in the ranks. Kurt could say that this sort of thing could have happened back home, but the fact was it _hadn't_ , it had happened _here_ , and damn it if his dad wouldn't be sharp enough to catch that fact and use it against him.

"I just can't win," he muttered to himself and pushed open the car door.

As he pressed the automatic locks, he took care not to glance at the side of the car. Though the offending word was covered, the brown tarp against the blue paint only highlighted its presence for Kurt, and he promised himself that if he could make it through this weekend and get the car to a shop on Monday, he would let himself have a big breakdown later, when he wouldn't be bothering anyone else. Maybe after finals?

A soft laugh escaped and he started humming _With a Little Help From My Friends_.

Yeah, he would get by.

~ + ~ + ~ + ~

Blaine wasn't quite sure what he expected when Kurt finally got home. His entrance occurred just as he and Brittany were sitting down for a pizza that Blaine had ordered in, and though the taller boy had seemed paler than usual as he unwrapped his scarf, he had also seemed, while surprised, genuinely pleased at Blaine's presence.

"Uh, I hope you don't mind that I'm still here," Blaine began awkwardly as he stood up to meet him. "Brittany wanted the company, and I--"

"It's no problem," Kurt waved off his explanation and smiled tiredly. "I'm sorry I'm back so late. There was an accident right outside the shop and I had to stay while the cops sorted things out. Who knew all those cow-milkers could drive that fast?"

"I though Montana cows were beef cows, not milk," Brittany frowned down at her pizza, and Kurt gave a small laugh. Blaine wondered if he knew how false it sounded, but didn't say anything as the other boy replied, "That's right, Britt. Sorry, my brain is too tired to come up with the right metaphor."

She nodded slowly before raising her gaze to his, and even Blaine could feel the blue piercing his soul as she looked at Kurt.

"But you're okay, right? You didn't get hurt?"

"No, Britt, I was just a witness. There's not a scratch on me," he answered with a small smile and turned around to show his perfectly unharmed figure. "See? I'm fit as a fiddle."

"Fit as a fiddle," she repeated slowly, and then nodded, and smiled brightly. "That's good, Kurt. I was worried."

"Oh, Britt," Kurt sighed and lowered a hand to brush her bangs back. "I'm sorry. I promise, I'm not hurt. And I promise I'll stay safe if something like this happens again. You know how good of a driver I am, right?" She nodded and he went on, "It was honestly just a freak accident."

"You and I attract a lot of freaks, don't we?" Brittany replied, and Blaine felt his heart clench as Kurt grinned, for real this time, and laughed out loud.

"You're telling me. So," he continued, sitting beside the blonde, and Blaine lowered himself across from them. "What's all this?"

"Ah, well, I wasn't sure when you'd get back, and Britt and I were kind of hungry, so..."

Blaine shrugged as Kurt eyed him and then nodded.

"That's fine. Though I don't know what Coach Sue is gonna say if she knows you're off your diet again, Britt."

The blonde's eyes widened and she stared down at the pizza in her hands.

"Oh no. But it's only one piece. You won't tell her, will you, Kurt?"

"Oh, Britt, I'm teasing," Kurt smiled. "And even if I wasn't, I'm sure one won't hurt."

"One won't hurt," she nodded and smiled again before taking a bite.

"Is that pineapple?"

"Uh, yeah," Blaine nodded, and found himself blushing for no reason. "But it's only on the one half. We decided we both liked pepperoni and green peppers, but Brittany wasn't sure about the pineapple, so I--"

"I _love_ pineapple."

Blaine stopped as Kurt replied and then started to smile.

"Well, help yourself to some of my half, then."

"I think I will."

Blaine almost laughed out loud at the sudden eagerness on Kurt's face only to find himself blushing, shamed, less than a minute later when Kurt realized there were no plates on the coffee table they sat at, and then Kurt was up and bustling around the kitchen, telling about his day at work and the antics of his favorite customers, and how if he played his cards right, he might get a raise over the winter break, and if Blaine had been the clueless idiot he'd been in high school, he would have thought nothing was wrong. Of course, he could still be a clueless idiot, but he was a lot more perceptive than he used to be, and there was something about Kurt's smile as he sat down with them and helped himself to some pepperoni, green pepper and pineapple pizza that didn't ring true to the younger boy. His suspicions were proven true when Brittany finally decided she should head to bed, and Kurt went in to say goodnight, and to check on Sunny, and came back into the living room looking like his favorite relative had just died.

"God, life sucks."

"No kidding."

Kurt let out a small scream and Blaine would have laughed under any circumstances. As it was, he felt a flash of guilt and rushed to the older boy's side, putting a steadying hand on his shoulder.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

Kurt shook his head, breathing in deeply as he held a hand to his chest and a small laugh escaped.

"No, no. It's okay. I just forgot you were still here."

"If you want, I can leave?" he offered, hoping the answer was negative, but his question was left hanging, and that was answer enough. He dropped his hand and ran nervous fingers through his hair. "Ah, yeah. Well, it was nice to see you, Kurt. I'm sure you've had enough of me the last couple days, so I'll leave your Sunday to yourself. Thanks, though, for saving my long weekend."

He started toward the door, and then halted at the hand grabbing at his shirt.

"Kurt?"

Was he asking him to stay after all? Blaine felt his heart thudding in his chest, the sound so loud in his ears it took him a moment to take in Kurt's next words.

"What do I owe you? For the pizza, I mean."

_Idiot_ , Blaine thought. _Of course he doesn't want you to stay, you guys are just_ friends _, remember?_ He sighed as his heart settled and turned back fully to face the other boy.

"You don't owe me a thing, Kurt."

"What? No, Blaine, come on. Brittany and I ate almost half the pizza."

"Keyword: almost," Blaine grinned and shook his head. "I told you, Kurt, you saved my weekend. And you've been _feeding_ me all weekend, too. I think I can pay for one little pizza."

"But I--"

"No buts. This one's on me."

"You--"

" _Kurt_."

The tall boy bit his lip and nodded, and Blaine felt a hitch in his breathing as his gaze zeroed in on those lips. It didn't matter how many times he told himself they were nothing more than friends, and really, barely that, if you thought about it--they'd known each other less than a month, after all--he couldn't get the idea of the two of them together out of his head. The devil on his left side whispered that Kurt hadn't done anything to say that he _didn't_ like Blaine, but the angel on his right argued that anything Blaine did would just be taking advantage of a poor, single parent. Blaine wished the both of them would just _shut up_ so he could do things his own way, but somehow he didn't think that likely, especially considering they both looked like weird cartoon versions of his brother Cooper.

_Somehow I don't think you're even sane enough to have a relationship right now, squirt_ , they both told him and he scowled.

"Why are you so nice?"

He was jolted from his confusing reverie by Kurt's question. It sounded curiously broken, and Blaine blinked and then felt his eyes widen in horror at the trail of tears falling from the beautiful boy's achingly beautiful eyes.

"Oh, god. Kurt. I'm sorry. If you really want to pay me, I--"

"No, that's not...I can't... _Blaine_."

And how was he supposed to react to that broken expression? Blaine didn't know what to do except wrap his arms around the other boy as he fell into his embrace, sobbing softly, and Blaine slowly walked them back to the couch, murmuring nonsense syllables into his ear as they sunk into the cushions together.


	26. Chapter 26

"Well, isn't _this_ cozy?"

Kurt blinked awake, frowning at the intrusion. He was warm and cozy and had been having a lovely dream about sunshine and tea parties and a dreamy-eyed boy with curly hair...

He jolted upright, feeling only the faintest hint of guilt as the sleeping boy beside him toppled to the side of the couch, mumbling in his sleep as he did so. What had he _done_?

"You boys have fun last night?"

Kurt snapped his gaze behind him to see Rachel smirking as Quinn helped her out of her jacket. Despite her bright-eyed appearance, he could see that she was tired, and he flicked his gaze down to his watch, and his eyes widened in surprise. Was it really seven-thirty in the morning?

"I could ask the same of you two," he muttered as he eased back from Blaine, careful not to upset his position anymore, and he rubbed a hand over his face. "Oh, god, I did not sleep for long enough."

"Oh, really? But you look like you've got such a comfy pillow. Didn't that help?"

He glared at her as he stood, before looking down at the curly-haired boy snoozing on his couch. Blaine was beautiful, he had to admit. In this vulnerable state, Kurt had to make a conscious effort not to reach out and trace his hand along the stubble that was growing on his cheeks. He shook off the notion, and took stock of their positions, and felt a bit of relief at their fully-dressed states. Whatever he had done, it wasn't as stupid as his sleep-addled brain had first feared. Still, the burning question remained: Why had they fallen asleep there, anyway? He frowned as he wracked his brain, casting a glance toward the television as he tried to remember if they had been watching a movie, and then went still as his gaze turned downward. He was still wearing his work jeans.

Kurt had been living on a budget since the day Brittany showed up with a positive pregnancy test. He didn't troll malls for new styles, didn't even shop on eBay in search of deals, and he hadn't bought a fashion magazine in years. Of course, that didn't mean that Kurt went out looking like trailer trash. Even if he _was_ shopping at Walmart these days, he certainly didn't look like it. It was amazing the things you could do with cheap fabrics and an old sewing machine. If it wasn't quite haute couture upon his body, he took pride in knowing he was modeling Kurt Hummel originals.

The fact that he was wearing jeans which were made for ease of movement rather than tailored for style was practically unheard of outside his workplace. He always, _always_ changed first thing when he got home. Something must have happened to make him forgo that change, something big, something like--

Something like an unknown homophobe painting the word _FAGGOT_ on his car, he thought, noting the glint of silver paint on his fingers from when he had first run his hand across it last night. He didn't know if the horror he felt was simply a refreshing of the immediate aftermath of the incident or a result of the realization that he had broken down and spilled his problems all over the boy now sleeping in his living room. And not just broken down, he realized, but sobbed until exhaustion overtook him and he fell asleep in the boy's arms. He felt faint at the thought and it took him a minute to realize that Rachel was still talking.

"Kurt, are you even listening to me?"

He blinked and looked at her, feeling a headache rising.

"Rachel, I am too tired and too irritated right now to have a conversation with a girl who recently insulted me."

Her jaw dropped and then she whined, "I _said_ I was _sorry_ , Kurt."

The hurt of her words yesterday was minor in comparison to the hurt of last night's incident, but he took the distraction and ran with it.

"That doesn't excuse your blatant lack of tact and--"

"Okay, guys, let's take a moment to breathe," Quinn cut in and Kurt almost jumped, having nearly forgotten her presence. "Not to play mediator--"

"Please don't," Kurt sighed, raising a hand to massage at his aching temples.

"But I think we're all a little exhausted from last night's activities--"

"Quinn!" he hissed, darting a glance at the somehow still blissfully unaware boy behind him, and Quinn chuckled softly.

"Innocent or otherwise," she said, a teasing light in her green eyes. "And it might be best if we got some rest."

Kurt looked at his watch and shook his head, hoping the blush would shake off as well.

"That sounds ideal, Q, but I have to wake the girls in an hour for Sunday school."

"As if that's not plain crazy," Rachel muttered, and Kurt started to retort when Quinn spoke again.

"Well, at least eat something. You can argue better on a full stomach." He stuck his tongue out at her and she laughed before leaning in to press a kiss to Rachel's forehead. "I'm pretty much dead myself, so I'm going to head out, babe, okay?"

Rachel simply nodded, her expression all dazed and sparkly, and Kurt made a mental note to have Quinn spend an excess amount of time with Rachel more often if the dreamy-eyed, blessedly _silent_ creature before him was the result.

"If not sooner, I'll see you and the girls tomorrow, Kurt, okay?"

"Sure," he nodded and gave a short wave as she let herself out, and then turned his gaze back to Rachel.

She was still staring at the spot Quinn had been standing, a small smile curving her lips and his eyes narrowed in suspicion as he stepped to her side.

"Rachel Barbra Berry, you better tell me exactly everything that went on between the two of you last night."

She jumped and then laughed and brushed him aside as she went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she murmured, frowning at the gallon of whole milk and Kurt sighed and leaned against the counter beside her.

"Sure you don't. You're all googly-eyed at just the slightest touch from your soul mate and you want me to believe that nothing happened between the two of you?" She scowled up at him, but she was blushing, and he smirked. "So? Tell."

"There's really not much to tell," she began airily and Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Rachel."

"Kurt."

"You were together _all night_ , Rachel. And it's obvious you didn't get any sleep, I mean I love you, Rach, but you kind of look like death warmed over, happy glow notwithstanding," he added as her eyes narrowed, and she scoffed.

"Please. Like you're one to talk," she said, casting a glance toward Blaine, and though it had been more innocent than not, he couldn't help the blush that overtook him.

"Nothing happened," he retorted. "We were hanging out and just fell asleep on the couch."

"And you woke up in his arms," she added, eyebrows waggling and he sighed.

"I'm pretty sure we were talking about _you_ , Rachel."

"Well, I--"

They both stilled as a low groan issued from the boy on the couch and they turned slowly to see Blaine blinking in the pale light coming through the blinds and stretching as he sat up. He looked at Rachel and Kurt, his eyes hazy, before rubbing a hand across his jaw and yawning, long and loud.

"Good morning," he mumbled, smiling sleepily, and it took all Kurt had not to smile back.

"Good morning," he said shortly, and turned to the fridge, pushing Rachel gently to the side as he took out a carton of eggs. "I'm making breakfast. Do you have anything that you'd like, or won't eat?"

"Well, _I_ would like--"

"Rachel," Kurt cut her off, rolling his eyes. "I was talking to Blaine, not you. And as for you, no details, no breakfast."

The girl's eyes widened almost comically and then she began to pout.

"But Kurt. I'm _hungry_."

He started to retort when Blaine spoke up.

"I'm perfectly happy to share my breakfast with Rachel, if it's not a problem."

Kurt wanted to glare at the other boy, but he knew it was ridiculous to withhold food for what was really just a petty squabble. And when she batted her eyes at him he couldn't help but roll his own in response and sigh in surrender.

"Fine." He put the eggs back and grabbed the egg substitute before asking, "Pancakes sound good?"

"Sounds good to me," Blaine smiled, while Rachel frowned contemplatively before smiling herself.

"Thank you, Kurt. And that reminds me," she began, walking over to where her bag was set by the door. She riffled through the contents a moment before letting out a cry of victory and holding up a bag of vegan chocolate chips. "Did you know that the Albertson's opens at six in the morning, Kurt? And they have a surprisingly decent selection of vegan options."

"Yes to the first, I never noticed to the second," he answered, taking the bag from her as she held it out to him. "So you stayed out all night and then went shopping this morning?"

"Well, I--"

"Forgive me for being nosy, but am I to assume that the great Rachel Berry didn't come home last night?"

They both turned to see Blaine grinning, a wickedly teasing glint in his eyes and Kurt rolled his eyes while Rachel flushed pink.

"Rachel, were you telling him stories again?" Kurt asked and she turned to him with a scowl.

"It is my duty," she began haughtily, "to inform the fans of how incredible I truly am. Just seeing me on stage doesn't convey the totality of my entity."

"Entity, huh?"

Kurt shot Blaine a look, and Blaine shrugged, still smiling.

"We had a little time before Quinn picked her up yesterday, and she thought we should get to know each other better."

Kurt's eyes narrowed at the thought; though Blaine had been around quite a bit these last few days, Rachel was usually too involved with Quinn or Sunny to really pay him any attention. The idea that she had started up a conversation all on her own didn't sit well with Kurt, and he wondered what her motives were.

"Is that so," he frowned and turned back to the kitchen to pull out a mixing bowl and the rest of the ingredients for the pancakes.

"Of course, Kurt," Rachel replied, apparently oblivious to his suspicion. "After all, if we're going to be seeing a lot of each other, we may as well be friendly, right?"

"Right. Friendly." Kurt frowned down at the ingredients in hand before sighing and throwing them together from memory. It was amazing how little effort it took to change a recipe from delicious to vegan. Of course, he wouldn't accept serving anything that _wasn't_ delicious, so he made do, but the relief he had felt upon discovering that soy and other vegan substitutes were as easy to attain as they were was great. Though Kurt wasn't a stranger to looking up recipes, either online or in the old cookbook that his mother used to use, he took great pride in having all his favorites stored at the front of his mind with no need for books that were falling apart anyway and printed off sheets smeared in cooking grease.

"Do you need any help, Kurt?"

He jumped a little as Rachel crept up behind him, almost dropping the cup of flour in his hand, and sighed.

"Rachel. Please. My kitchen, okay?"

"Fine, fine, I'll back off," she said lightly, and he heard the scraping of a chair across the tile as she sat at the table.

He took a breath in relief; despite her small stature, somehow Rachel made the kitchen seem more cramped than usual when she fluttered around him like she did. Kurt flipped on the burner, pulling his favorite cast iron pan to the front of the stove, and let it heat while he mixed the ingredients together. He was about to add the chocolate chips when he heard another sound of scraping chair, and his hand paused above the bowl.

"I've never had vegan pancakes before," Blaine said, and Kurt turned to see him smiling jovially.

"Um, if you want I can--"

"Nonsense, Kurt, of _course_ he'll have some," Rachel gushed, leaning a little closer to the younger boy, and Kurt felt a slight burn in his stomach at the sight. He couldn't possibly be jealous, could he? Rachel had Quinn, after all, and Blaine? Blaine was just a friend. _Just a friend_ , he told himself as Rachel went on, speaking to Blaine now, "You'll love them, Blaine. And the chocolate chips taste real, I swear."

"Is that so?" he returned, still smiling, and Kurt scowled a moment before looking down at the bag in his hands.

"Blaine, if you're not sure, I could--"

"No, no," he smiled up at Kurt, and Kurt felt his stomach lurch, and though he knew he was being ridiculous, he much preferred it to the burning sensation of a moment ago, and he couldn't help but smile back as Blaine continued, "I'd really like to try them."

"Okay," Kurt nodded a little dumbly before flushing and turning back to the mixing bowl and dumping the chips in the bubbly mixture. He mixed a moment before grabbing the sunflower oil that Rachel had picked up a few days earlier and pouring a healthy measure in the bottom of the pan. It added an interesting flavor to things, but he'd found himself liking it the more he used it, and as the scent of warm oil floated up, he smiled and inhaled slowly. Vegan or no, he was pretty sure this was going to be another chef-d'oeuvre, and his smile only grew as he poured a quarter cup of the batter into the pan and watched it sizzle.

It was a little odd, listening to a conversation you weren't apart of, despite it happening right behind you. Kurt wondered if he should feel guilty for eavesdropping, but it wasn't like Rachel modulated her voice at all while talking to Blaine; she was just as clear as ever.

"So, Blaine, I've told you about myself, but what about you? You're a science major, aren't you?"

He'd known as much himself, and so was stunned to hear Blaine's negation of the fact.

"No, actually, I'm a music major."

Kurt couldn't help but turn around at that, though he flipped the pancake before he did so, and frowned.

"A music major? But you're the assistant in the physics lab."

Blaine blushed a little and shrugged.

"Well, yeah. I guess technically, I'm pre-med?"

Kurt gaped at him a moment before snapping his jaw shut and turning back to the stove. Blaine never ceased to amaze him, but that didn't mean he should go burning breakfast because of it.

"Really?" Rachel asked, clearly just as fascinated. "A pre-med music major? How does that work?"

"Well, my father hates the fact that I like music more than politics--"

"You're dad's a politician?"

"A senator, out of Ohio, obviously."

"Oh my god, you're Theodore and Celia Anderson's son! My dads took me to one of their society parties when I was about nine years old --one of my dads is a big-time lawyer, you see-- and I wore the most beautiful dress and I felt like Cinderella, and--"

"Rachel," Kurt cut in, knowing just by her tone of voice that her expression was probably something like fanatical.

"Oh. Sorry, I--"

"No, it's cool," Blaine replied, chuckling a little, and Kurt's grip on the spatula tightened a moment. When had it gotten this bad? he wondered as Blaine went on, "Yes, they're my parents. And they really did know how to throw one hell of a party. Still do, actually."

"I wonder if I saw you there..."

"I doubt it. My father didn't like me much _before_ I made the humiliating decision to be gay."

Kurt tensed in affront, but Rachel beat him to any comments he might have made.

"That's awful! What kind of father would be humiliated by a wonderful, charming, handsome--"

"Rachel," Kurt warned, but she went on over him.

"--dashingly beautiful and talented son like you?"

It occurred to Kurt that Blaine was probably blushing --hell, he was blushing, and it wasn't even him she was complimenting!-- and he knew immediately that he wanted to see that color on his face. Which is why he simply placed another finished pancake on the slowly growing stack before pouring more batter into the pan.

"Uh, thanks," Blaine said, his voice small, but clearly pleased, and Kurt bit back his own smile. "It's not like he doesn't treat me well. He's just not very...affectionate, to begin with. And he's in DC more than half the year anyway, unless it's a campaign year."

"Of course. So did you grow up in DC, then?"

"No, I'm strictly an Ohio boy."

"But your parents--"

"Mom was there when she could be. Dad for an occasional weekend."

"So they left you all alone? That's terrible."

"Not so terrible. And Brigitte was always there. Man, I loved her," he added with a laugh.

"Brigitte?"

Kurt was surprised at the flash of jealousy he felt, and then told himself to take a breath. Blaine had already told him he was gay. Unless Brigitte was a transgender male, he didn't need to worry about the competition. Hell, why was he worrying about competition in the first place? He bit his lip as he placed the last pancake on the stack and shut off the burner. He pulled a jar of sugar-free syrup from the cupboard, and, plate and jar in hands, turned to the table.

"And breakfast is served," he said grandly, placing the plate perhaps a little more firmly on the table than he had intended. "Rachel, would you get out some plates and forks?"

"Oh, sure," she nodded, looking a little surprised at his interruption before rising to her task.

"Would you like anything to drink, Blaine?" Kurt asked, and he wondered if his smile did not look as forced as he felt it was. "We have milk, orange juice, water...or I could make some tea," he added as an afterthought, already turning to put the kettle on.

"Oh, I'll have some water," Rachel said brightly and Kurt saw out of the corner of his eye that she was setting the table, complete with paper napkins he had not even known he had.

"Would it be too much to ask for orange juice _and_ a cup of tea?"

"Of course not, Blaine," Rachel answered before Kurt could and poured the juice herself while Kurt took two mugs from the cupboard.

When Kurt returned to the table, he found that Rachel had already served up a stack of pancakes to each of the three plates. He handed Rachel a glass of water, a little amused at how she had taken to the servile state and sat down across from her, with Blaine between them on his left.

"Shall we say grace?"

"Really, Kurt?" Rachel lifted a brow and he shrugged.

"It's Sunday. That and holidays are the two times I let myself be religious."

"But Brittany's not even awake, yet. You're only doing it for her, aren't you?"

"True," he nodded, but folded his hands anyway. "Still, she knows that, too, and she'll ask. I try not to lie to her if I don't have to."

"But Kurt--"

"A good practice," Blaine cut in, and Kurt had the funny thought that Blaine was trying to save him, as it were. "Shall we, then?" he asked, and held a hand out for each of them.

Rachel sighed, but took his hand, and Kurt grinned as he took Blaine's and her other hand.

"Alright, then." He bowed his head, and began, "Thank you for this food and this day, and for good friends. Bless us, and keep us, in your name, Amen."

The others echoed his 'Amen,' and Rachel snorted as she released their hands.

"Well, that was short."

"What, you expected a sermon?" Kurt teased, and picked up his fork. "Come on, Rach, you know me."

"I guess I do," she smiled in return, and took a bite of her own serving. "Dig in, Blaine, it's delicious."

"Don't mind if I do," he said, and did so, but not before smothering his pancakes in syrup.


	27. Chapter 27

Blaine was still waxing eloquent over the pancakes --having been doing so since his first bite-- when Rachel stood from the table and announced she was off to bed.

"Wait," Kurt frowned up at her in confusion. "What do you--"

"Please, Kurt, I've been up all night, remember?" she laughed and took her dishes over to the sink. "I need my beauty rest."

"You--wait. You were gonna tell me--"

"I'm sorry, Kurt, I really am tired," she sing-songed as she waltzed out of the kitchen and Kurt stood in affront.

"Rachel. We're supposed to talk."

"Goodnight, darling, I love you!"

"Rachel."

"Oh, and lovely to see you again, Blaine. Ta-ta!"

" _Rachel!_ "

And suddenly he was all alone with Blaine, and he had no idea what to say. Any awkwardness from the night before had been pushed to the back of his mind while Rachel dominated the scene, but now that she was gone, he was at a loss. Did he bring up the subject himself? Did he pretend nothing had happened between the two of them? What really _had_ happened, anyway? Just a small chat between friends, right? Admittedly, it was a rather _emotional_ small chat, but what did it matter? Friends were allowed to get a little emotional now and then; it helped with the bonding experience.

He pushed aside the small voice that told him he was starting to sound like Quinn, and breathed in as he smiled across the table at his house guest. And then spoke the same time as Blaine.

"So about last night--"

"And who is Brigitte?"

There was an awkward pause then, and Blaine smiled and rolled his eyes.

"No one to be jealous over, I assure you."

Kurt wasn't sure how red he turned, but judging by the smirk on the other boy's lips, it was probably pretty red, and he scowled and shook his head.

"I am _not_ jealous. I just thought it was funny that you're apparently in love with some woman that you've never mentioned."

The smirk turned to full on grin before he schooled his features and shrugged.

"It's nothing so dramatic, Kurt. She's just my maid."

Kurt blinked; a part of him felt a spurt of relief. Even if Blaine was still in love with the woman, there was no way Kurt would lose to a maid. Not that he was competing, of course. Another part of him tried to picture Blaine as lord of the manner with maids waiting on him hand and foot and came up blank; it shouldn't have surprised him so much, what with Blaine's parents being who they were, and yet even with their elite social status, Blaine just seemed more the sweet neglected puppy than the pampered, spoiled poodle.

And now he was comparing his friend to a dog. He should probably apologize for that, but he shook off the thought as he looked at Blaine and tried to fit the image he had of him with this new information.

"You have a maid."

"Well, my parents do," he shrugged. "Sixteen maids, two cooks, a butler and a chauffeur, all at the beck and call of the great Theodore Anderson."

"And you're not bitter about that at all," Kurt began, starting to smile, and Blaine blushed, clearly unaware that the feeling had come through in his tone.

"Well, maybe a little. But Brigitte was all mine. She was more nanny than maid those first few years, and then I grew up and she was kind of my go-to confidant." He paused at the skeptic look on Kurt's face and gave a soft laugh. "Yeah, I know that's ridiculous. But she was all I had. My big brother skipped out the second he turned eighteen, and he's eight years older, so it's not like he was really up to spending time with a little kid like me."

"Big brother. That would be Cooper, right?" Kurt asked, recalling a conversation from earlier this week, and Blaine grinned.

"Yeah. He's a total nut, and we had a couple rough patches, but we're pretty tight these days. But back then, well...Brigitte was everything, and like I said before, I loved her."

"You loved her," he repeated, and Blaine shrugged.

"Well, she did introduce me to Disney movies."

Kurt grinned at that and nodded.

"Of course she did. Life makes perfect sense now."

"Well, I don't know about that..."

"And where is she now that you're in school?" he asked, and then added with a small frown, "Please don't tell me you brought a maid to school."

Blaine laughed again, the sound rolling through Kurt like a wave and he almost missed his reply.

"God, no. She's got her own family back in Ohio to attend to. And she would have never let me try to get away with a grilled cheese sandwich for Thanksgiving dinner."

"I'd like to know who would," Kurt retorted and he shrugged in reply.

"Well, it was kind of a tradition when I started going out to visit Cooper for the holidays."

"Oh god."

"He got married last year, so he's not completely starving these days," Blaine grinned. "Though it was close there for a bit. The first time Patience saved us from peanut butter and jelly on Christmas morning last year, I thought we'd died and gone to heaven."

"Peanut butter and jelly on _Christmas_?" Kurt gaped at him and Blaine blushed lightly.

"Well, it was Christmas _morning_ , but I think I do prefer waffles." Kurt glanced down at the almost-empty plate of pancakes and raised a brow critically, and Blaine blushed an even brighter red. "Oh, no. I'm not saying I don't--I mean, I love these, they're really amazing, I mean--who knew vegan was so--I shouldn't have--I'm shutting up now," he ended on a mumble, and Kurt bit the inside of his lip so he wouldn't laugh.

If it wasn't so unnerving, Kurt would say it was cute, but as it was, he was pretty sure he preferred when Blaine was _not_ being adorable.

"So are you seeing Cooper for Christmas again this year then?" he asked, moving them back to the previous subject.

"Probably," he nodded, his smile telling of his thanks for glossing over his misspoken words, and went on, "He's probably planning on getting me trashed since I'll be turning twenty-one this year."

"Ah, that's right," Kurt smiled in return. "You're a baby."

"Hey."

"So will this be your first drinking experience, or...?"

"I've had a few drinks here and there," he shrugged. "A couple dinner toasts on the rare occasion that my parents weren't out, and my roommates broke out champagne the first night at dinner to celebrate our cohabitation."

Kurt laughed out loud and grinned.

"You're kidding."

"Nope. Apparently it's tradition."

"By whose standards?"

"Some prep school in Indiana. Apparently Nick and Jeff went there for high school."

"And they served champagne in high school."

"Prep schools are pretty liberal. A little extra pocket money from Daddy's Swiss bank account and they'll overlook everything."

"So they did this at Dalton Academy, too, then."

"Well," he shrugged and smiled. "I tried to stay out of it. I'm not much of a drinker anyway."

"And your brother wants to get you trashed."

"He's a bit ridiculous. You should meet him next time he visits here."

Kurt blushed at the thought of meeting the other boy's family, and went silent, finding himself highly invested in the patterns he could make tracing his fork across the syrup that remained on his otherwise empty plate. Such was his attention to the flower design that was taking shape that he nearly fell out of his chair when Blaine spoke again.

"So about last night...oh, crap, are you okay?"

Kurt looked up to see Blaine reaching across the table to help him up, but he waved him off and stood, if a little shakily, and grabbed up the empty plates from the table and took them to the sink.

"Is there anything else I can get for you, Blaine? More tea?"

"Kurt..."

He gripped the edge of the sink and inhaled slowly before turning back to face the other boy. His face was open, caring, and Kurt knew he could count on him if he wanted to. But he wasn't exactly sure he wanted to.

"Can we just forget that happened, please?" he asked quietly, and a frown crossed Blaine's face.

"Kurt. This is serious business. _Somebody vandalized your car_."

He winced at the emphasis; he had been hoping that in his distraught state the other boy wouldn't have been able to understand all the things he had cried into his chest the night before.

"It's just a little paint, Blaine. It's not a big deal."

"The half hour you spent crying in my arms before you fell asleep tells me different."

Kurt scowled even as he flushed in embarrassment, and shook his head.

"So what? That was last night. Today is a brand new day, and I'm telling you, it's not a big deal."

"Kurt."

"What am I supposed to do, Blaine? I called the police, I watched the security videos, but I couldn't ID the guy. I don't know who hates me enough to do that. I mean, I'm living in freaking Montana. It's not like I'm going to be popular anyway, being what I am."

"Kurt, just because this isn't New York or San Francisco doesn't mean you should just expect--"

"That's the point, Blaine. This _isn't_ New York or San Francisco or the mythical Castle in the Sky where everybody's gay and that's okay. It's Billings, Montana, and there is paint on my car. What am I supposed to do other than take it into a shop to remove it?"

His expression softened, and though Kurt jerked back at the contact, Blaine took his hands in his own, and started rubbing his thumbs lightly along the outside.

"You should let me give you some self-defense lessons."

Kurt inhaled slowly and if his smile was shaky, his snark was genuine as he asked, "What, you gonna teach me ninjitsu or something? I guess I am pretty handy with a pair of sai swords."

"Sai swords?" Blaine grinned. "Really?"

"I was bored freshman year so I ordered some off of eBay."

"Not freshman year of _high school_?"

"My dad learned pretty quickly that he was ill-equipped to shop for me, so he got me my own credit card. As long as I stuck to a budget, he didn't care what I bought. Or rather, he assumed that everything that came in the mail was just more clothes."

"And when he found out you were buying lethal instruments of death?"

"I don't know about lethal," he grinned, but went on, "He was pretty impressed actually, that I could handle them so well. I don't think he thought about where they came from."

Blaine grinned a moment before sobering.

"Well-handling aside, I was actually talking about getting you a little boxing training."

"Boxing?" he quirked a brow. "You're kidding."

"I learned after I got picked on my freshman year of high school. It's a good skill to have."

"If you're different, you mean," Kurt said flatly and Blaine shrugged.

"If you're too pretty to be roughed up," he countered and Kurt blushed.

"Um, thank you? But what is boxing going to do if someone's tagging my car?"

"Maybe nothing. But what if it escalates, Kurt? What if someone decides defacing your property isn't enough?"

"I could always start carrying mace."

"I can just see it," Blaine laughed, and squeezed his hands tighter. "But learning certainly won't hurt either way."

"Come on, I work in a coffee shop, not a bar. It's not like I'm going to be getting in fights on a regular basis. I just have to be careful and--what?"

Blaine was looking at him, his expression contemplative before shaking his head.

"Care to share your thoughts with the class?" Kurt asked archly, and Blaine blushed.

"Sorry. I was just trying to picture you working at a bar. It didn't quite work."

"No kidding?" Kurt rolled his eyes, almost sneering, and he blushed deeper.

"I just don't want you getting hurt, Kurt."

The soft words worked to soften his expression, and Kurt sighed.

"Thank you. And I promise I'll think about it. I just...I don't want to think about it today?"

He added a touch of pleading to his voice, hoping the other boy would drop the subject and though Blaine looked like he wanted to argue, he smiled instead and nodded, releasing Kurt's hands and sitting back down at the table. He picked up his teacup only to frown down into it.

"What's wrong?"

"It's empty."

Kurt laughed at the pouting expression on his face and turned to put the kettle on again. He picked up his own cup, noticing it was still half-full, and took a sip of the now-tepid liquid and grimaced. If he wasn't so against wasting things, he would throw it out, but as it was, he took another sip and told himself to enjoy the flavor if not the temperature.

"So what's on the agenda today?"

Kurt eyed Blaine over his tea, wondering how he could sound so calm and cheerful after such a serious subject, or even at this hour of the morning. A glance at his watch told him it was just eight, and he glanced toward the dishes in the sink, knowing he would probably be using a few of them very soon.

"Well," he began after a moment, "In about half an hour or so, I'm going to wake Brittany and Sunny for breakfast. Brittany, believe it or not, is a total morning person--"

"Okay, okay," Blaine cut in, shaking his head even as a smile crossed his lips. "So normally, I'd say yeah. That girl is kinda crazy."

" _Excuse_ me?"

"In the best way, I promise," he said, hands up to ward off the angry look that crossed Kurt's face. "But it's eight in the morning on a Sunday. And it was almost two before she went to bed."

"Don't underestimate the girl who claims Britney Spears made her the greatest singer in the world."

Blaine laughed and shook his head.

"Really?"

"You'll have to ask her about that. She would hate if I stole her thunder," Kurt added in a stage whisper, grinning a little himself, and Blaine grinned right back.

"I will do that. So what's after breakfast?"

"Well, Brittany and Sunny usually take a quick shower together, and then I do their hair for church and--oh heck."

"Heck?" Blaine grinned, and Kurt blushed.

"I might need to ask you a favor, Blaine," he began, stopping only as the kettle started whistling and he removed it from the heat. He nearly jumped as Blaine appeared at his elbow with empty cup in hand, but he smiled down into those warm hazel eyes and brewed him a fresh cup.

"Ask me anything your heart desires, and I shall do my best to grant your request."

Kurt snickered a little at the flowery language and shook his head.

"Can the Prince Charming act and I will."

"Got it. So what's up?"

The smile grew at the casual 'translation' of his words, and Kurt reached for a clean spoon for Blaine to use, the other one having been tossed in the sink earlier. His smile fell before he turned to fully face the other boy, and asked, "Can I borrow your car this morning?" At the surprise in his eyes, Kurt rushed on, "It's just, I don't want Britt to see that...word. She'll worry too much. And Sunny's picking up her alphabet lately, and I can't stand the thought of her asking me what it says, what it means, or god, what if she actually reads it on her own? She doesn't need to know that word and--"

"Whoa, whoa, Kurt."

He came back to himself to find Blaine's hands on his arms and he started flushing as he realized he had been freaking out.

"Sorry."

"No, don't apologize. Your worries are totally legitimate. And yes, you can borrow my car. What'll you tell Brittany, though?"

"I'll just say it's having some engine troubles, and I'm going to take it in tomorrow. It's half true, anyway," he shrugged.

"Or you could tell her that I wanted to join you guys today and have it be a whole truth."

Kurt blinked in shock before cocking his head to the side.

"You want to come to church with us," he said, his voice full of skepticism, and Blaine nodded, smiling that beautiful smile that Kurt was starting to realize he was hard-pressed to resist. "You're serious?"

"Why not? I went into a church for Cooper's wedding; it was pretty cool. No lightning strikes or the voice of God casting me out." Kurt smiled, despite himself, at the description, and Blaine went on, "Plus I've spent time with you nearly every day this week. I wouldn't want to break my record."

Kurt felt himself blushing again, but tried to pass it off as nothing as he began casually, "You know, some people consider Sunday to be the first day of a new week."

"Um, hello? It's called a week _end_ , isn't it?"

Kurt laughed out loud at the fake affront on Blaine's face and grinned widely.

"Fine. You win. Though I might also point out that breakfast counts as spending time with me, too, you know."

Blaine only shrugged and smiled before taking a sip of his now-full teacup.

Kurt had a funny feeling that they had crossed over some lines in the friendship scheme, both last night and this morning, but as he basked in the warm glow of Blaine's happy-go-lucky aura, he decided it didn't really matter in the end. He liked Blaine, plain and simple, and if the other boy was so determined to fit himself into his life, then who was he to put him down?


	28. Chapter 28

Kurt breathed a sigh of relief as he exited the sanctuary. It wasn't that he couldn't appreciate a good sermon, even about something as insane as the so-called immaculate conception. To be perfectly honest, after he got over his initial prejudice, he actually kind of enjoyed the stories, and hearing the original story of Joseph had put Andrew Lloyd Webber's work in an entirely new light.

What he did _not_ appreciate was feeling old Mrs Norris staring daggers at him during the service. They had started attending First English from almost the first weekend they got there that summer, after Brittany had called up Pastor Axel and asked him point-blank how he felt about same-sex love. To her delight--and Kurt's relief--the man had stated that love was love, and God didn't begrudge people their happiness, even if sometimes the society we lived in did.

Despite the pastor's surprisingly liberal viewpoint, however, not all the members shared it. Though the congregation was generally friendly, there were a few patrons--Mrs Norris included--who had made their distaste of their little family situation known. There was nothing overt in their treatments of him and his girls--one young lady who had made some pithy remarks after discovering the situation still hesitated to meet Kurt's gaze after the tongue lashing he gave her aftwerwards--but he could still feel judging eyes and contempt in their gaze, and after last night, he was not exactly up for it.

As he made his way over to the small community area near the entrance, he wondered if Brittany would be upset with him for skipping out like that. He had lasted through a few hymns, and Brittany was not as oblivious as people thought, so she might understand, but whether she had noticed the glares or not, he was at his limit. He sighed as he sat down near a window, the mid-morning winter sun shining behind him, and flickered his gaze toward the table next to him, wondering if there were any of those cinnamon cookies that one of the matrons sometimes made available today. Upon tasting the first one he had jokingly told Brittany that even if this were the most homophobe of churches, he would come back just for those cookies. She had only smiled and promised that she would make sure it _wasn't_ that type before engaging one of the ladies in a discussion on whether it was a sin to break a diet or not, and if church cookies were holy and cancelled out calories or not.

Kurt smiled at the memory, and how the lady, a Mrs Bryce, he recalled, who was recently married and expecting a baby, had only paused for a second of the confusion that Brittany generally inspired before talking about how blessing food like they did every morning _must_ make it healthy.

He debated standing again to check for those cinnamon creations when he heard the sound of singing, very softly, coming his way. Kurt sat up a little straighter, wondering who was going to interrupt his moment of peace and whether it would be worth it to just find his jacket and step outside so as to avoid more glares and judgment, when he caught the words being sung.

" _Patience, now, frustration's in the air,  
And people who don't care,  
Well, it's gonna get you down_..."

He started to grin, recognizing both the song and the voice it belonged to, though he tempered it to a more casual smile when Blaine came around the corner and met his gaze.

"Kurt. There you are."

" _Sex and the City_?"

"What?" He stopped in place just steps before him and frowned in confusion.

"That song," Kurt elaborated. "They play it in the _Sex and the City_ movie."

"Oh." He paused and then offered hesitantly, "I've never seen that?"

Kurt gaped at him, and he flushed accordingly.

"Blasphemy."

"Sorry," he chuckled lightly, before moving to sit beside Kurt and then explained, "The Warblers sang that my senior year."

Kurt paused and his expression changed from shocked to considering.

"Huh. I can't imagine an a cappella arrangement."

"Yeah, when they played the original for me, I had my doubts, too," he shrugged before grinning as he continued, "But we won regionals with it, so I guess it worked."

"Really."

"Yeah. I'll make a copy of the recording for you; it was actually pretty cool."

"Huh."

Kurt frowned and Blaine started frowning in return.

"What?"

"I'm just trying to understand you."

Blaine cocked a brow at that.

"Oh, really?"

"Understand you _musically_ , I mean. Though it's mind-boggling, I get the whole Disney thing. And then the Broadway/West End stuff, that makes sense, too. But your lack of knowledge on every other kind of music? You have to admit, it's kind of unbelievable."

"Well, I--"

"I mean you _must_ have listened to something else. And not just for your glee club. Did you never borrow a CD from a friend, or listen to the radio?"

"My parents were big fans of NPR," he offered, blushing a little and Kurt sighed.

"So you know _classical_ music. I guess I should have figured; you did say you were a music major, didn't you?"

"Cooper tried to get me into other stuff, these last few years. He played Duran Duran nonstop one weekend."

"Oh, please, no."

Blaine only grinned and shrugged.

"And my roommate Jake has been feeding my modern music needs with his mixed cds lately."

"Ah, yes. The introduction to Katy Perry."

"Maybe one of the greatest I've heard."

"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that," Kurt said drily, and Blaine grinned, clearly aware just how far-reaching his comment was, and Kurt changed the subject, "So what brought _you_ out of the sanctuary? Did it start thundering or something in there?"

Blaine laughed at that and shook his head.

"No thunder or lightning in sight. No, ah, actually," he began, hesitating before plunging on, "Brittany said I should make sure that you weren't hurt by Mrs Norris." Kurt blinked in surprise; never let it be said that Brittany didn't notice things. "Is there a Harry Potter thing here I'm not getting?" Blaine asked when he didn't respond. "Because I never would have figured her for...well, maybe Luna, actually, now that I--"

"No, Blaine," Kurt shook his head, smiling despite himself. "This particular Mrs Norris is not a cat, just an old biddy with no great love for perverted souls."

"Perverted souls? That's a bit harsh."

"That was a direct quote," he shrugged. "That sweet-looking old lady with the flowers braided in her hair sitting behind us? Not a big fan of homosexuals."

"No kidding? She looked sweet as punch when I saw her."

"Sweet as punch, Blaine? Really?"

He blushed and began, "Well, I--"

"No, no, it's fine. Kinda cute." Kurt winced as the word left his mouth and sighed. He was losing his filter around Blaine, and that could only mean trouble. "Whatever. So, yeah, she's not my biggest fan. It's no big deal; you can't win 'em all, you know?"

"Uh, yeah. So are there a lot of people here who think like her?"

"A few. But they leave us be, mostly. Or ignore me because they absolutely adore Sunny."

"Of course," Blaine grinned at the thought, and Kurt couldn't help but reciprocate. Sunny had been a hit since day one, both with her fellow pre-schoolers and the ladies of the church. A bright-eyed angel with an eager mind and perfect pitch was hard to resist even outside of worship; inside, she was in high demand, and Kurt was starting to wonder if maybe he shouldn't give in and let her join the children's choir already. She would probably get a kick out of it, and as a few parents were still wary of playdates with him around, she would at least have more time with her peers, even if they were all five and up. She could match the older kids any day of the week, and he wouldn't put it past her to even surpass a few of them, once the opportunity arose.

"So why do you do it?"

He was jolted from his reverie by Blaine's question and he frowned.

"Why do I do what?"

"Come to church," he gestured around them as if to encompass the entire building, and Kurt's gaze was unfocused for a moment before he replied.

"I suppose it is kind of odd, my coming here," he conceded. "I'm obviously not in the most gay-friendly of places."

He smiled a little at the bad joke and then shrugged.

"Brittany likes church. She likes the hymns, the stories, though I've wondered more often than not if she completely understands them. She grew up in the church, and was adamant that Sunny would have the same experiences. Sunday school, vacation Bible school, youth group, overnight lock-ins, retreats...it's a pretty good social outlet, really. Since Sunny's not enrolled in any preschool, this is really the only interaction she has with children her own age. I couldn't begrudge her this time with her peers. And it's free, unlike so many other things, like dance or softball or what have you."

"I get that," Blaine nodded, though his brows were scrunched together in confusion, and he asked, "So why do you go with them, then? Why not send Brittany and Sunny by themselves? I mean, it's not like they're hurting without you."

Kurt frowned as he mulled over his reply before saying, "I have thought about leaving them to themselves. Though true, Brittany will pout at me if I don't, I know they can handle it. And even with the pouting, Britt will forget about me as soon as she gets here and sees the cookies Mrs Ritter brings --those cinnamon cookies? To _die_ for."

"Really?" Blaine smiled. "Cinnamon is one of my favorite things."

"Even if it wasn't, I dare say it would be blasphemous if you didn't like those cookies," Kurt smiled in return before turning serious once more. "It's not so much about how I _can_ send them alone, though. I've been coming to church with Brittany and Sunny since Sunny was still in the womb. It's kind of a ritual thing, one of those few times where you know, no matter how crazy our schedules are the rest of the week, we'll be together during this time. Even if I _do_ still roll my eyes at some of the sermons."

"Totally," Blaine nodded. "I mean, seriously, immaculate conception? Props to Mary for thinking up something so radical, but really?"

"I _know_ ," Kurt laughed, and put his hand on Blaine's arm. "I knew it was a good idea to keep you around."

"Oh yeah?" Blaine grinned.

"You just _get_ things. It's like we're meant to be." Blaine stilled and Kurt's eyes widened as he realized what he had just said. He started shaking his head as he pulled his hand back and added, " _Friends_. We're meant to be _friends_. I didn't mean to--I don't--it's not like--"

"Why, Kurt Hummel, are you babbling?"

Kurt flushed at the teasing grin on Blaine's face, and stood stiffly to walk across the room.

"I do not _babble_ ," he bit out quietly. "I am perfectly eloquent."

"Oh, of course," Blaine nodded congenially, rising as well. "And I think we were meant to be friends, too."

Kurt paused a moment before shifting a glance at Blaine's face. The teasing grin was gone, and he was just smiling gently, and Kurt felt a sense of calmness return to the situation.

"Yeah?" he asked shyly, and Blaine nodded.

"Absolutely," he replied, only to grin again as he added, "Though if you want to be _more_ than friends, I wouldn't mind finding a secluded spot, and--"

"Blaine!" Kurt nearly screeched, blushing cherry-red as he faced him head on. "We are in a _church_!"

"And it's mid-service. I bet we could get into the pastor's office, even."

"Oh my _god_."

"Or maybe we should break into the pantry, see where they keep their communion wine. They do serve wine here, right?"

"Grape juice, actually, but what are you--you can't-- _Blaine_ ," he scowled at him, and Blaine's grin grew wider.

"What?"

Kurt sighed and shook his head.

"Sometimes, you just...I can't keep up with you."

"But you'd _like_ to?" Blaine asked, edging a few steps closer, and Kurt bit his lip.

That was the crux of the matter, wasn't it? Not being able to keep up, but wanting to, all the same. What was he doing? Inviting Blaine to Thanksgiving, to the Nutcracker, to _church_? It was like he'd already rolled out the red carpet and said, 'Welcome to the family, Blaine!' and he had known him for less than a month. What was he _doing_?

"That," he said after lightly clearing his throat, "is a matter of some debate."

"Aw, come on, what's to debate?" he smiled, and Kurt had the feeling he was giving him his best 'for the judges' smile. Little did the younger man know, he had already won Kurt over eons ago. "We already know I'm great company."

"Ha," he said drily, though he had to fight not to grin.

"And I'm totally sane." Kurt snorted out-right at that, and Blaine shrugged. "Okay, well, mostly. Plus, I'm spontaneous, so keeping up with me would never be boring."

"Though the base concept of 'keeping up with' someone or something generally brings up the idea of wearing one's self out trying to do so."

"I'll accept that," Blaine nodded, but continued, "Though sometimes wearing a body out is the fun part of keeping up."

Kurt took in a slow breath and walked over to the table and made a tower of cinnamon cookies on a paisley green napkin. If he was going to have to put up with this, he needed some sugar in his system, healthy or no.

"What? No response to that part?" Blaine asked from behind him, and Kurt debated replying before he walked back to the window seat and sat down. "Um, if I went too far, I'm sorry," Blaine went on, more hesitance in his voice now, and Kurt looked up into nervous, puppy dog eyes, and felt his whole world crash around him. "I wasn't really trying to--I mean--"

"Blaine," Kurt cut in before his rambling went full-tilt, and he smiled when the other boy stopped and stared at him. "It's fine. Just, somehow...somehow, you manage to be fantastically compelling and inappropriate at once." He paused, and laughed a little. "And wow, I've used that line before. Officially pathetic."

"Nah," Blaine said, grinning again, and sat down on the arm of the chair beside him. "So who did you say it to before?"

"My first love," he laughed again and shook his head. "We were paired together in glee club to sing a ballad, and he had a...moment, shall we say, and lashed out at me."

"Ouch."

"Well," Kurt shrugged. "As I said, fantastically compelling and inappropriate."

"I'll bet. So should I be flattered that you used the same line on me or offended?"

"Maybe a little of both," Kurt smiled, and Blaine laughed. "Would you like a cookie, Blaine?"

"Is this you keeping up with me or filling my mouth so I can't say anything else stupid?" he asked, as he moved to sit fully beside him, and Kurt shrugged and held out the treat.

"Maybe a little of both," he said again, and Blaine's lips pursed in a frown before he shrugged and took the proffered cookie.

"Okay. I can deal with that." He broke off a small piece a popped it in his mouth before asking, "So how long do we stay out here?" He swallowed another piece and added, "You were right on about these cookies, by the way. Cinnamon has reached a new plane of existence."

"Told you so," Kurt grinned, and said, "Another ten minutes or so ought to do it. The sermon should be wrapping up, and then we can sing again."

"And you'll be fine with the Harry Potter lady?"

" _Mrs Norris_ ," he corrected, though he couldn't help the laughter, "despite her biggoty ways, actually loves my voice."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, it is. She only manages to smile at me if she's being all fake and nice, so I could tell she meant the compliment by the sour look on her face."

"Man, she must hate that a 'perverted soul' has an angel's voice," Blaine grinned, and Kurt laughed again.

"Yes, yes, she does."

"Wanna make her day worse afterwards by letting her know there are two of us here today?"

"You're impossible," he sighed, and Blaine's grin got even wider.

"That's my middle name. Blaine Impossible Anderson."

"Ha," Kurt smirked, and started on his own cookie.

"So that's a no?"

"Would you like another cookie, Blaine?"

He laughed out loud; the ploy was obvious this time, but he nodded and took another cookie before the two of them settled into a comfortable, cinnamon-filled silence.


	29. Chapter 29

_Back to life.  
Back to reality.  
_  
That was what the Monday after Thanksgiving felt like for Kurt. More than reality, it was closer to hell, because, due to the lateness of Thanksgiving, the so-called 'Dead Week' came right afterwards. He had three papers of his own to write, several more papers to help Brittany with, plus studying for finals, working a few extra shifts at _The Tispy Bean_ since one of the regular evening shifts just came down with a wicked case of the flu, and he had to also make sure he called his father and the bank to make sure he had everything settled for validation for the spring semester. Plus, he still had to bring his car into a local shop and see what could be done for the disparaging paint job it currently had.

_You've got this, Kurt_ , he told himself as he left his last class of the day. Technically he still had a meeting with Quinn, but that wasn't for another forty-five minutes, so he had time for a quick lunch and to make sure that Rachel had not poisoned Brittany and Sunny with her offer of lunch that day. As he left the hall where his political science class was held, he shifted his books in his arms, and forced a smile, trying to force a better attitude as well.

His smile, as well as his books, fell when he ran into a brick wall.

Well, maybe not a wall, he thought as he looked up at a boy with messy dark hair and an apologetic look on his face.

"Oh, dude, wow, I'm so sorry. Let me help you with that."

It was so funny it was almost sad; Kurt was already so tired, he felt like his long weekend had not been long at all, that he didn't even have the energy to complain as he watched the boy bend over and gather the textbooks that had dropped to the walkway. The pile he made was neat, as he wiped the light dusting of snow that had fallen through the night off each text and added them to the pile, with the largest books on the bottom and the smallest on top. The orderliness almost made Kurt smile, despite all, and so his thanks was genuine as he accepted the stack from the boy.

"Thank you."

"No worries," the boy responded. "That was totally me. I have issues with watching where I'm going," he laughed, and Kurt couldn't stop the smile now as the boy held out a hand. "I'm Jake."

He shifted the books to one side and held out his right hand to shake.

"Kurt."

The boy's dark eyes sharpened, and he asked slowly, "You wouldn't happen to be Blaine's Kurt, would you?"

His eyes widened in surprise even as he blushed, and started to shake his head.

"I, um, we're just friends. We don't--"

"Dude, it's so awesome to finally meet you," he grinned widely, and to Kurt's great surprise, bent down to give him a rib-crushing hug.

Kurt almost lost his books again, and was gasping when Jake released him.

"I take it you're the roommate he mentioned?" he managed after a moment, and the wide grin on the boy's face made him wonder how it didn't split him open.

"Jake Trevik, at your service." He tipped an imaginary hat before adding, "Blaine has been talking about you a lot."

"Is that so?" He wasn't sure if that was flattering or just plain embarrassing, and he stood awkwardly a moment before shifting his books in his arms once more and smiling faintly. "Well, it was nice to meet you. I should probably--"

"You going back to the dorms? I'll walk with you."

The pause was small before he looked back at the hall behind them and frowned.

"Weren't you heading in...?"

"Eh," he shrugged, and started walking backwards down the pathway, a brave feat considering the icy state, and Kurt followed slowly as he continued, "It's just a review session. I know my textbook forwards and backwards. I can afford to miss this."

"I see."

If he was being honest with himself, Kurt might admit that he wasn't really sure he wanted to make a new friend, at least not today, but if the boy was determined to walk with him, he couldn't really stop him, and it would be foolish to go anywhere else when all he really wanted was to get some lunch.

"So I heard you make a mean Thanksgiving dinner."

"Uh, yes, I do?"

It was surprisingly easy to talk to the other boy and by the time they reached his room --he had thought Jake would turn off when they entered the enclosure, recalling how Blaine lived that direction, but he had only paused a second before following and continuing his monologue on sociology versus anthropology-- Kurt was genuinely smiling, and found himself glad that the other boy had run into him a few minutes ago.

"And it's just weird, how so many people think they're interchangeable, but really--"

They both stopped in surprise as they reached Kurt's door and heard the screaming coming from inside.

"What is your _problem_? You never wanted me to go on Broadway anyway!"

There was no mistaking Rachel's high-pitched shrieking, and he had a bad feeling about who she was screaming at.

"Um," he began, looking up at Jake, his expression both embarrassed and apologetic, "I would invite you in, but..."

"I'll take a rain check," he nodded, dark eyes casting a worried glance to the door before he held out his hand. "It was great to meet you, Kurt. And sorry about running into you before."

"No problem," he smiled faintly, shaking his hand briefly and then watching as he turned and walked away. From the few things Blaine had said about him, he had kind of expected the kid to be a little on the dumb side. He was completely the opposite, though, and Kurt had a feeling they would become good friends. The smile that was forming dropped as he heard Rachel continue.

"I am my own person, Finn Hudson. You have no say over what I do or--"

He opened the door slowly to see Rachel pacing back and forth in the living room, her hair wild as if she'd run her fingers through it, her color high, and her expression could probably kill something if she tried. She looked absolutely terrifying, and if Kurt didn't know any better, he would back out the door and leave her alone. He had seen her on a rampage several times throughout their high school career, and he had always been surprised when they didn't end in bloodshed. But right now, beneath that fury that she wore so well, he could also see the pain, and the fear in her eyes, and so he locked the door behind him and took a tentative step closer to her.

"No, I'm _not_ coming back to New York. I told you, I can't--"

She inhaled sharply, and her expression turned to ice.

"You can go to Hell, Finn Hudson."

And with that, she turned off her phone and threw it on the sofa. He had seen her break a few phones by throwing them to the ground, so Kurt applauded her self-control. But he knew, though he had only heard bits and pieces of the end of her conversation with his brother, that she was on the edge, and as he watched her breathe slowly in and out, he felt his heart break a little.

"Rachel?"

She went still before slowly turning to face him, and he pulled her into his arms before the first tears even had the chance to fall, and just rocked her slowly back and forth as she sobbed into his shoulder.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we have the ending of the last chapter from Rachel's viewpoint. Let me just say I hate writing arguments.

The day had started out amazing, and it only went up from there.

Actually, the entire last _week_ had been amazing.

Though she had been feeling a little down when she first arrived, trying to find her place in Kurt's already busy life, trying not to make him push her _out_ of that life, Rachel knew that coming out to see him was exactly the right thing to do. And then to find Lucy, here, of all places, and between getting to know her and her ex Sam, plus Blaine --who, though Kurt was adamant there was nothing between them, she was _certain_ she saw little hearts floating above him whenever the two of them were together-- and she felt like she was finally where she was meant to be. Even after getting accepted into NYADA, she hadn't been this happy with her life. Sure, she still wanted to perform, but she could do that anywhere. She'd already heard good things about the Billings Studio Theatre, and though the NOVA center downtown was perhaps more often geared toward opera and had apparently lost much of its musical glow in a merger two years ago, she was excited for the new possibilities that awaited her here. She was even considering finishing up her degree here, since she would have Kurt and Brittany along to help her, and an _excellent_ school counselor if she was feeling overwhelmed.

She grinned at the thought, as she opened the refrigerator to take out the makings of a fruit salad. She had promised Kurt when he left for his classes that morning that she would make sure the girls were fed properly before their meeting with Lucy --Quinn, she thought, she had to remember that they all called her _Quinn_ \-- that afternoon. She could tell, even after these last weeks, he was still skeptic of her skills in both cooking and baby-sitting, but she knew it wasn't really personal; if she had a family as great as Brittany and Sunny, she would be hard-pressed to trust anyone else to look after them properly, too.

Maybe, she thought, when he got used to having her around, she could talk him into keeping her in the rotation, so they could schedule their classes accordingly. On the matter of classes, she had been emailing her professors, and though they were sad to see her go, they were perfectly willing to let her do her final presentations via Skype, and she had already sent in her final essays. They hadn't asked a thing about the nature of her personal emergency, for which she was grateful, but she was surprised that it was going so well. She had expected _some_ fuss, especially when she had spoken with Madam Tibedeaux about her withdrawal from the program at the end of the semester. Even she had been understanding, though, to the point that she had encouraged Rachel to return to them whenever she wanted, if it was a semester away, or ten years.

" _It's because you're amazing_ ," Lucy had told her when she spoke with her about it, but Rachel was still skeptic; yes, _she_ knew she was amazing, but this was _Carmen Tibedeaux_ they were talking about. She would worry about it later, though, she told herself, getting out a cutting board and searching for a sharp knife when Brittany came up behind her.

"Are we making lunch, Rachel?"

She blinked in surprise; she hadn't heard the blonde enter the kitchen. In fact, she had been pretty certain that she had gone to the library to get some books for a paper she was writing. A glance at the clock on the microwave showed her that it had been nearly an hour since then, though, so maybe she just wasn't paying attention.

"Uh, yes, Brittany, we are. I was thinking of a fruit salad, and maybe some sandwiches. Though I'm not sure what kind of sandwiches," she frowned, but Brittany grinned.

"Peanut butter and jelly is our favorite."

Rachel laughed, caught off-guard by the energy with which that statement was made and nodded.

"I don't doubt it. Peanut butter and jelly it is. We could probably have Sunny help us, too." Brittany looked around for the toddler, and Rachel added with a smile, "She's coloring in the bedroom. I may have given her a Disney Princess coloring book," she admitted, and her smile grew at the delighted gasp from the other girl. "This salad might take a little time. Why don't you join her for ten minutes or so? Then we'll be ready to make the sandwiches."

"Awesome," she grinned and turned and nearly flew back to her room.

Rachel shook her head after her, and busied herself cutting and dicing the fruits she had picked out; she said a little prayer of thanks that Kurt had been so willing to take her shopping last night. She knew he was on a budget, but she wasn't, and was perfectly willing, too, to buy food as a form of rent before she officially moved in after she enrolled. Kurt had been stubborn about it, of course, but even though she was a vegan, that didn't mean she didn't know the cost of other foods, and she knew he had spent damn near a fortune on that Thanksgiving meal last week. It didn't hurt her pocketbook to pick up more than just tofu, and it hadn't taken her a minute of arguing with Kurt to get her way.

She smiled as she remembered the long-suffering sigh he had given, but the smile faded as she remembered what had come after that.

She hadn't had a car since she lived in Ohio, so of course it made sense for Kurt to drive his; when she learned that his reticence to go out wasn't just because of pride, but because of a dirty word hidden beneath a piece of tarp, she had first wanted to go out and murder someone, and then wanted to kill _herself_ for not realizing that _this_ was what had been off about him all day. She had made a comment to Lucy -- _Quinn_ \-- after brunch that he was being unusually moody, and they had laughed a little when she reminisced about him confronting her about her own mood one day senior year, saying that their periods weren't due until the end of the month, and they had spent an inordinate amount of time speculating about the veracity of such an event happening; the probability of it happening to _Kurt_ was rather high, they had agreed, and dissolved into laughter before changing the subject. They hadn't been speaking in malice; Rachel loved Kurt like a brother, and she could see that Quinn cared for him a lot, as well. But she still felt guilty about their words, especially when Kurt explained the entire ordeal and told her he had absolutely no clue who would do such a thing. What should have been a fun shopping trip, the type she had imagined when they had first talked of living together in New York, became a muted ordeal, and though Kurt didn't fuss about her buying a full load of groceries for his family, she knew it wasn't because he had given up on convincing her he could handle it himself, but because he couldn't stop thinking about those six stupid letters splashed across the side of his car.

She was considering, since she would probably need a job at some point when her savings ran out, that she might see if the coffee shop he worked at needed anymore help. Maybe they could work shifts together, and maybe she could keep an eye out for the asshole that thought it was okay to use that kind of language and give him --or her, she conceded-- what for the next time he showed up with an idea to give Kurt's car a new paintjob.

"Aunt Rachel, look, look! I colored Princess Tiana!"

The interruption broke her from her thoughts and the scowl that was starting to settle on her brow, and she turned from the slowly-growing pile of fruit to see Sunny holding up a page from her coloring book. She had made the princess's dress dark purple rather than the green it was in the original --coloring the frog version of Prince Naveen in the same dark tone, she saw-- but Rachel only smiled and knelt down to the toddler's level.

"That's beautiful, princess. You know, I'm half African-American myself. I was so excited when I saw _The Princess and the Frog_."

"What's affri--affrike--what's that?" the little girl frowned, and Rachel opened her mouth to explain when Brittany came up behind the girl, her own coloring page in hand, and said, "She means she's got darker skin like Tiana. But only half, because one of her dads is white."

"Oh." She nodded slowly before asking, "You have two daddies?"

"That's right, princess," Rachel grinned. "Hiram and Leroy Berry. They met in college and have been in love with each other ever since."

"So you don't have a mommy?"

Her expression softened at the concern in those bright blue eyes, and she shook her head.

"I have a _birth_ mother." _Whom you should probably call_ , a small voice pointed out. "But she's not like _your_ mommy. I only met her when I was older, and we're friends, but that's all."

"Oh." She frowned a moment, and then said, "If Daddy and Blaine become boyfriends, I can have two daddies _and_ a mommy, right?"

Both Rachel and Brittany laughed at that, and Rachel shrugged.

"Well, we'll see. Now, I bet your daddy would love if you put that picture on the fridge, don't you?"

She nodded ecstatically and rushed to find a free magnet as Brittany said, "You think he'd be okay if mine went on there, too?"

Rachel glanced down at the picture she had colored of Princess Anna and Queen Else and smiled.

"I'm sure he'd love it, Britt. You two ready to help with the rest of lunch? I think I'll probably have the fruit salad done by the time you--"

"Aunt Rachel, your phone is ringing."

Rachel blinked and then frowned. She hadn't even heard it go off. She looked over at the table and then realized she had left it in her bedroom. She took a step toward the hall, before she looked down at her messy, fruit-covered hands and frowned.

"Answer it for me, sweetheart? I need a second to wash up."

The girl nodded enthusiastically, her golden curls bouncing before she turned on a pirouette and dashed to where Rachel could finally hear her phone blasting out Barbra's original version of "Don't Rain On My Parade." She hummed along for a second as she ran her hands under the sink, and then smiled at Sunny's greeting, "Hello, this is the great and talented Rachel Berry's phone, how can I help you?"

Brittany laughed out loud and then clapped her hands as Sunny came back into the kitchen.

"That was perfect, baby."

"You taught her that?" Rachel asked in surprise, and Brittany nodded.

"Of course. She likes to answer phones, and we both agreed that we need titles for when she does. _I_ am the amazing Brittany S. Pierce, better than Britney Spears. Kurt is the wonderful and charming Kurt Elizabeth Hummel. And now you have a title too!"

Rachel shook her head, not surprised at all that it was a collaboration between the two girls, and wiped her hands on the dish rag.

"I'm pretty sure his middle name isn't actually Elizabeth, Britt."

The blonde frowned and opened her mouth to reply when Sunny tugged on Rachel's sweater, and she looked down into bright blue eyes accompanied by a scrunched up nose and pursed lips.

"There's a man who wants to talk to you, Rachel."

"Oh?" She wanted to both laugh and take a picture of the toddler's expression, and took the phone from her outstretched hand. "Did he say who he was?"

"It was something about a fish."

"A fish?" she blinked in confusion, but shook her head. The little girl had probably just misunderstood. "Thank you, princess. Would you like to help your mommy make lunch while I take this?"

Her eyes widened and her mouth turned up in a wide grin before she dashed past her and clung onto her mother's leg.

"What are we making, what are we making, what are we making?"

Rachel laughed as she watched the scene before her unfold; Brittany lifted Sunny so she could sit on the counter by the sink and handed her a jar to open before the two of them simultaneously broke into song about peanut butter and jelly. They were so much in tune with each other, both musically and physically as the passed the ingredients back and forth between each other, and Rachel wondered if she would ever get that, if she would ever had a daughter to sing with and make sandwiches with and just have fun with. She was still smiling when she brought the phone to her ear, and said, "Hello, this is Rachel Berry."

"Rachel, thank _god_." She paled as the familiar voice reached her and nearly dropped the phone as the man went on, "I've been trying to get a hold of you for forever. Who was that who answered the phone? She sounded familiar. And wait a second, is that Brittany singing in the background? Rachel, are you in _Montana_?"

" _Finn_."

She jumped at the clatter of the knife to the floor, and her wide-eyed gaze went to Brittany's equally wide-eyed look, and she watched Brittany mouth ' _Finn_ ' in surprise.

"Mommy, what's wrong? Why did you drop the knife? That's dangerous, you know."

"Hey, baby," she began, pulling the girl back up into her arms. "I know you love peanut butter and jelly, but what do you say we go visit the grill for lunch today instead?" She frowned, the protest clear on her face, when Brittany went on, "We can order a grilled cheese sandwich, plus I'll let you have some _Sprite_."

That was clearly the magic word, as the young girl's eyes sparkled with delight, and she demanded to be let down so she could get her shoes and coat. Rachel couldn't even find the strength to say thank you to the obvious set-up as Brittany hustled the little girl out the door in her bright pink jacket with the white faux-fur lining the hood. She wished she could run out the door with them, she thought, as she watched the door shut gently behind them, Brittany's earnest blue eyes the last thing she saw before she shut her own. She wished she hadn't decided to turn her phone on; she had email, didn't she? What did she really need a phone for? She could even text via email, couldn't she?

She wished that she had never left New York, she thought as the buzzing in her head grew, and she tried to focus on the words of the only man she had ever really loved.

"--was trying to keep things quiet, because I didn't want to freak people out, but it's been _weeks_ , Rach, and no one knew a thing. I understand that being involved in all this theater stuff means being kind of a diva, but don't you think you went a little too far? I've been worried sick, and--"

She still loved him, she thought as he went on, venting frustration and fear on top of one another, and so the guilt was worse than it might have been had he simply ceased to matter. Why _had_ she left without saying a word? She had only spoken on the subject briefly with Lucy, trying to be blasé as she mentioned stresses from school, anxieties from the same quarter, and just feeling like she needed to come out here, feeling like Lucy --in her imaginative state-- had been the final push for her to do so, and so here she was. But it had all been surface talk, and Rachel had been more than happy to get to know the real Lucy --the real Quinn-- versus what she knew of her from before, pushing all talk of New York and NYADA and, especially, talk of _Finn_ , to the back while they debated politics, clothes, music, even favorite colors.

If there were moments she could see those piercing green eyes wanting to ask more, Rachel had simply ignored it. She was so happy where she was, so happy with the admittedly baby steps she and Quinn were taking in their blossoming relationship, so happy to be able to relax and not have to worry about being judged at every corner, so happy to just _be_.

She desperately wanted to live in the _now_ , not the past.

The past was raging at her from over half-way across the country, and Rachel swallowed before she cut off Finn's tirade.

"What do you want from me, Finn?"

She winced even before the sudden silence became awkward; she hadn't meant to sound so curt. But she wasn't sure how she could sound any other way; not only was he a slap in the face of the dreamland she'd been living in, but if she let herself be calm, let herself care more than she did, she might not be able to come back from the swirling abyss that was sure to send her into.

The question was a lie, if questions _could_ be lies. She knew what he wanted; she just didn't think she could give it to him, not now, maybe not ever.

She sighed softly, and said, "I'm sorry, Finn. I didn't mean it like that. I--"

"Why did you leave?"

"I--" She swallowed as she felt her throat close up, and walked out of the kitchen into the living area. His voice was a mix of anger, confusion, and hurt, and she could barely breath over the pressure of them all. "I needed a change," she managed after a moment. "I just--"

"Well, _fuck_ , Rachel, if you needed a change, you could have changed your wake-up routine, or gotten another one of those makeovers you apparently need to become a real New Yorker."

She flinched, both at the language, and the reminder of that stupid fling with Brody so many years ago.

"It wasn't that kind of--"

"Or we could have gone out to dinner a couple times a week or something, like we used to. I mean, I know we've been busy, but we could still--"

"Finn," she cut him off as gently as possible, shaking her head as if he could see her, "It wasn't like that."

"Yeah? So what _was_ it like, Rachel? What could have possibly been going through that crazy head of yours that you left without saying a single word?"

She was silent, the only sound in the room the click of the heater turning on its cycle, and Finn's heavy breathing in her ear, and it took her a moment to find the words.

"I had to go," she began slowly, "And I didn't want anyone to talk me out of it."

"You didn't--Rachel. I don't get you. New York has been your dream since you were three. Why would you want to leave?"

"It just wasn't...it wasn't the right place, Finn. I...I wasn't happy, and I--"

"Not happy? You're in _RENT_ , Rachel. After Funny Girl and Wicked, isn't that like your dream?"

"I--of course. And Maureen is a great role, but I didn't--"

"And that Tivo lady--"

"You mean Carmen Tibedeaux?"

"She thinks you're the greatest thing ever."

"I know that. But I still--"

"And what about you and me? Aren't we planning your perfect Central Park wedding? I mean, geez, Rach, you're life here is everything you've ever wanted. And you're just walking about on a whim? Because you're unhappy?"

She started to frown, but tried to stay cool as she said, "It wasn't exactly a whim, Finn. I mean, yes, it might have seemed like that, but I--"

"Your Broadway dreams are practically on a platter at your feet, and you're just throwing them away? What the hell is wrong with you, Rachel?"

Her eyes sparked fire, and she snapped back, "What is your _problem_? You never wanted me to go on Broadway anyway!"

"I never said that, god damn it."

"Oh, didn't you? What happened to all those freak-outs senior year when you said we would never be together if I went to New York?"

"You can't do that to me, Rachel. That was high school. I was an idiot then."

"Well, you're reverting back to form right now," she said, unaware of how her voice had risen.

"What? Rachel, stop being so uptight. You can't just throw everything away like this."

"I can do whatever I damn well please. I am my own person, Finn Hudson. You have no say over what I do or--"

"The hell I don't. I'm your fiancé, and if you think I'm not going to do everything I can to get you over this insanity--"  
" _Excuse me_?" She understood he was a little upset, but there was no reason to resort to pettiness. "You don't understand--"

"You have to come back to New York, Rachel. You have responsibilities here that you can't just leave behind."

"No, I'm _not_ coming back to New York. I told you, I can't--"

" _God_ , Rachel, when are you going to stop being such a fucking drama queen?"

She stilled in her place, inhaling sharply at the term. She had always been sensitive about it; she knew she _could_ be a drama queen, but she was passionate about her art and sometimes people just didn't understand. But Finn...despite everything, she'd thought he was one of the few who did.

Apparently, she'd thought wrong.

"You can go to Hell, Finn Hudson," she said, putting as much ice into her tone as she could before she ended the call and threw her phone onto the sofa.

She didn't know how a conversation could have gone so wrong. She had been trying to explain, as best she could, but Finn just kept cutting her off, not letting her organize her thoughts, and then to end with that...she hated him so much right now. And loved him at least half that much, too, damn it.

_Slow breaths_ , she told herself. _You don't want to have a breakdown. What would you do if Brittany and Sunny came back and found you like that? Keep cool. Take it_ \--

"Rachel?"

She went still at the intrusion; she hadn't even heard Kurt come in, before she turned slowly to face him. Though she knew he hadn't heard it all, the cautious expression on his face told her that he had heard enough, and that was enough to get her to take the two steps toward him before falling into his arms and the tears she had been fighting so hard to keep under control burst forth into sobs as she rested her head on his shoulder.


End file.
